































POEMS 











POEMS 


BY 

HIRAM COOK 




PRIVATELY PRINTED 
MCMXVIII 



COPYRIGHT, 1918 
BY A. R. COOK 



• * * 




DESIGNED ‘PRINTED'AND ‘BOUND - AT* THE 
PLIMPTON* PRESS • NORWOOD • MASS* U • S • A 


©Cl. A4 92844 




HIRAM COOK 


TTIRAM COOK, son of Reuben Cook and Wealthy 
* 1 Huntly Cook, was born in Preston, New London 
County, Connecticut, December 11, 1827. Attended the 
district school until fifteen years of age and thereafter at- 
tended the private school of Joseph H. Gallup of Preston 
for three months. 

During his early manhood he taught school and devoted 
his spare time to study, taking up Civil Engineering as a 
profession, and was employed on railroad location and con- 
struction in New England, New York and Pennsylvania, 
returning to Norwich, Connecticut, in 1859, where he made 
his home and died there on May 26, 1917. For the last 
twenty-five years of his life and up to the time of his 
death, he was Director and President of the Norwich 
Water Power Company. 

He was largely self taught and a student up to a few 
months preceding his death; in every particular a self-made 
man. He was a noted mathematician in eastern Con- 
necticut and wrote a Treatise on Differential Calculus which 
will be published if possible as a textbook as soon as 
conditions have improved. 

The Poems were written from time to time as an 
amusement. Some were written and others revised last 
year when suffering most severe pain. 


NOTE. — The above brief sketch of the life of the author 
of these poems was furnished by his son. On first reading 
it seemed a bit inadequate, but when you read the verses 


IV 


HIRAM COOK 


through, as has the writer of these words, you find them so 
sincere and so honest in disclosing with kindly humor the 
simple ideals of a man who lived as well as dreamed for nearly 
a century, that you will say they need but little of a preface. 

The keynotes of the author's life as indicated by the 
verses are two, devotion and love of truth. Mother, wife, 
brother, son, and grandson; the home of his childhood and 
the home of his old age; and his beloved country: all are 
included in special poems of infinitely more value than 
any mere biography would be to acquaint one with the 
author. 

All show learning and literary merit equal to the verses 
of many well known poets, but the short poem Inde- 
pendence written in his eighty-ninth year, illustrates par- 
ticularly the keen vigor of a mind which retained its clear 
vision to the last. 

It is no wonder that Hiram Cook's son takes pride in 
having his father’s verses put into permanent form for his 
family and friends. 


Norwood, Mass. 
January 3, 1918. 


B. A. R. 


CONTENTS 


PAGE 

Comments on the Marvelous 7 

Hudibras Second 24 

A Letter 30 

Passing Events 37 

Dissimulation 41 

Leisure Thoughts 48 

On the Wedding Anniversary 55 

Retrospection 57 

Reply to Brother John 62 

The Sowers 65 

The Path of Life 66 

Ecclesiastes XII 67 

A Letter 68 

“ Fuimus Troes: Fuit Ilium” 70 

To My Grandson 73 

Marriage Anniversary 76 

Torment 77 

Old Time 81 

What the Muse Says 82 

My Oar 83 

To My Son, December 7, 1912 84 

A Family History 85 

Winter 87 

The Lass with Auburn Hair 88 

Tacoma 89 

It Might Have Been 90 

The Shadow 91 


v 


VI 


CONTENTS 


PAGE 

A Strange Bird 92 

Devotion 94 

Rural Pleasures 95 

The Maiden’s Dream 97 

A Bonnie Lass 9s 

Death 99 

On Tasso 100 

Life 101 

Illusions (To Mattie) 102 

Before 103 

After 104 

? ? 105 

Pope 106 

Utopia 107 

Independence (Written July 4, 1916) 108 

? ? 109 

Moisture 110 


COMMENTS ON THE MARVELOUS 


To J. H. Gallup, Teacher and Friend 

PROLOGUE 

Mirifica eveniunt; en lingua rara recenter , 

Quam aliqui jam discunt et cum manibus ipsis 
Saepe loquuntur ) item numerum speculantur aperte , 
Qui jaciuntur visibiles a Vaste potenti; 

Et multi jaciunt stulios sui atque beati. 

Si dubitur , dicunt , 0 tu fidei perparvae , 

Certe oculos aures quoque habes , quin uteris illis ? 
Nam sci res dicimus tibi quas esse indubitates. 
Credulitas est serva super stitionis et artis; 

Vero schola experientia , stultividique studentes. 

L OOK round, my friend, (regard with heedful eye, 
Draw just conclusions, breathe a musing sigh; 
Let truthful reason, unrestrained by pride, 

Or erring dogmas, be thy constant guide,) 

Not on an age of iron, stone or brass, 

But on an era of much vocal gas, 

Wherein desire for mystic lore is great; 

The bubble-blower blows himself elate; 

The fool, unmindful of his lack of brain, 

Distracts himself to make some phantom plain; 

The sage proclaims e’er in a long discourse, 

Some vain chimera with sophistic force, 

Or strives to drag from cabalistic night, 

Some empty shadow into doubtful light; 

While, mouth agap, credulity draws near, 

Swallows the jargon and applauds the seer. 

Wherefore is man so constantly employed 
Vacuity producing from a void? 

In constant study he his life will spend, 

To form and bring great NOTHING to an end; 

7 


8 


COMMENTS ON THE MARVELOUS 


Follies to hatch by any means will strive, 

Which, though unlike, to nothing will arrive. 
Confute he must, be blinded if he can. 

Instructing self to err his fellow man. 

To reason dumb, he’ll mount his phantom steed, 
And after mysteries at a break-neck speed; 

Too weak for else, illusions not his own, 

He’ll wrangle o’er for fear he’ll not be known, 

Or ’ll ponder secrets never to attain, 

Until a nightmare, they oppress his brain. 

Behold the wonders of the present age, 

And wonder-workers crowding on the stage. 

Here are disciples of famed Mesmer, here 
Versed in the doctrine of the soul, the seer; 

Here some familiar with the dead have grown, 

And some familiar with what ’s not their own. 

All, in their zeal, have wonders to advance, 

Some learned from raps, some from a mystic trance, 
To man. Sure man ought to exult, adore, 

For no such knowledge e’er was known before, 
Unless when anxious Saul to Endor sped 
And had the woman raise the prophet dead. 

But knowledge shall increase, so we are told, 

New things will be, away shall pass the old; 

Indeed each generation wiser grows, 

The truth of which the present plainly shows. 

Explorers see brave mythic seas and hail 
Each potent bubble, each fantastic sail, 

Note well the soundings, fancied isles explore, 

And steer uncertain for a dreamed-of shore. 

It’s dimly seen. With fond desire they speed, 

Nor feel despair to see the land recede; 

But e’er approaching, never drawing near, 

Assume the knowledge as obtained and clear. 

Reformers see, forever perfect still 
Mending perfection with a hearty will; 

Profound and skilled in all the arts of yore, 

And for the future still devising more; 

E’er pressing forward to obtain of course, 


COMMENTS ON THE MARVELOUS 


9 


Some newer knowledge from uncertain source; 

Who view themselves with telescopic eye, 

Famed constellations in a golden sky. 

In art mesmeric see the many seers, 

Obtaining lore from non-existent spheres. 

Behold the wonders of their magic skill, 

The many subjects to their cogent will, 

Who, once clairvoyant or two states between, 

Espy strange wonders that can not be seen; 

Of past events will open wide the door, 

Tell what will happen when there ’s time no more; 
Become conversant in an unknown tongue; 

Behold and stalk the heavenly hosts among. 

O, noble art ! inexplicably plain 1 
To fully credit, need a man be sane? 

To disbelieve, need he be void of sense? 

Or is to heed not proof of ignorance? 

Lo! on the stage psychology sublimes, 

No useless doctrine in these modern times, 
Improved, perfected and applied by men 
To prove a may-be by a might-have-been. 

A wondrous doctrine, yet we must admit 
The sage as wondrous, who is versed in it, 

Who with a medal, (emblem of his art, 

Made part of zinc, of coined silver part, 

To fit the palm,) his doctrine will expound. 

And those believing readily confound. 

This talisman he bids the subject hold 
And eye the solver it is multifold; 

Then with sage passes and magnetic gaze, 

He wills a trance; th’ obedient soul obeys. 

The subject now controlled, (’t is strange we grant,) 
Recites quaint tales and “ sees the elephant,” 

Drinks air for water; at the charmer’s will, 

It’s wine, emetic or mercurial pill; 

Takes aught that’s harmless and is deathly sick, 
Arsenic acid and is cured as quick; 

Gets drunk on water with the utmost ease, 

On aqua vita sober as you please; 


> 


10 


COMMENTS ON THE MARVELOUS 


Strains at a gnat but gulps a camel whole; 

Beholds vast numbers or sees not a soul; 

With air theatric promenades the stage, 

By turns a clown, a lunatic, a sage; 

Takes up the cue with a peculiar zest, 

And takes an insult as a famous jest. 

Auspicious art! the deaf are made to hear, 

The dumb loquacious, idiot a seer, 

The blind to see, the starving pauper king, 

The maimed to dance and tuneless tongues to sing. 
What stubborn mortal now will ills endure, 

When he beholds this safe and speedy cure? 
Although the doctrine be so darkly clear, 

T is quite enough to know the doctor’s near, 

A wise physician who, beyond dispute, 

Knows that the secret will his purse recruit. 

And ne’er’ll dissect though e’er so hard you beg, 
His little goose that lays the golden egg. 

Here lore of raps proclaims the Foxy seer, 

(A thing surprising, marvelous to hear,) 

Who with enchantment, sagelike, gravely blind, 
Performs strange wonders and astounds mankind. 

When all are ready, all prepared to stare, 

The sage commences. At a handy prayer. 

The spirits come submissive to his will, 

And without number his apartment fill, 

But, in politeness servant-like, before 
Ent’ring their master’s room, rap at the door. 

The spirits act, and with amaze, delight, 

The gaping crowd behold a wondrous sight: 

A war is waged between the mop and broom; 
Stands, chairs and tables dance about the room, 

In quaint cotillions, strathspeys, reels, quadrilles, 
Spite of resistance, if the seer but wills. 

The spirits also to the seer impart 
A fund of knowledge in immortal art, 

Of ev’ry tense and in a stranger tongue 
Than linguist e’er has dreamt or poet sung, 

Which some might call cryptology. The seer 


COMMENTS ON THE MARVELOUS 


11 


Acts the translator and the rest revere. 

All this is strange, but spirits have and still 
Cause many wonders, doubtless ever will. 

Full many raps have many seers received. 

Beheld strange things too, and perhaps believed; 
For countless specters, ev’ry shade and shape, 
From frowning demon to a grinning ape, 

Have vexed their vision oft, and ’t is presumed, 
Because with spirits they have oft communed. 
Some little art herein must be contest, 

A horn is swallowed with apparent zest; 
Tumblers are tipped and spirits, spirit-like, 

Hold tipsy men tipped prostrate in the dike; 
Spirits are stilled, by spirits things are moved, 
Proof-spirits known and spirits also proved. 
These spirits also oft cause some to prate, 

As Croesus rich, as Alexander great; 

Some to see double, which perhaps may be 
A second-sight; spirit of prophecy 
On some bestowed, and often will inspire 
The aged and crippled with a youthful fire. 

Yet here ’s the marvel: O, ye mighty gods! 
Some modern spirits kill at forty rods; 

So it is said, presumably ’t is true, 

Hence give these spirits, as the deil, their due; 
Better however to submit the palm 
To rapping spirits less inclined to harm; 

Or to their masters, through whose magic skill 
Men hold communion e’en with them at will, 

For lo the seer, by laying on of hands, 

Will summon spirits e’en from distant lands, 
Who with free will his call forthwith obey 
And promptly rap the tidings of the day; 

To his inquiries rap a quick reply; 

Rap who are dead or are about to die; 
Ubiquitous, rap ev’rywhere at once, 

Whate’er is needful to instruct a dunce; 

Rap the proceedings of the spirit spheres, 

And rap the rappings. Man astonished hears 


12 


COMMENTS ON THE MARVELOUS 


This language strange, but some can not believe. 
Its demonstration failing to perceive; 

A great misfortune, for upon the whole, 

Anon a spirit is a jolly soul, 

And wonders work exceeding strange, and then 
Some even enter and exort in men. 

A marvel sure, but this is stranger still, 

A few at times possess a stubborn will, 

(Afflicted doubtless with the sulks or blues,) 

And call for music ere they ’ll give the news. 

If no musician could be found to coax 
These willy manes, this might seem a hoax 
To those to whom the secret is unknown, 

In human knowledge being versed alone, 

And not supposing that discord can be 
With souls immortal in eternity. 

These wilful spirits music must admire, 

Perhaps have listened to Apollo’s lyre; 

May be disciples, for ’t is said of late, 

The soul’s progressive in the future state. 

“ Music hath charms to soothe the savage breast,” 
So Shakespeare says, indeed the point’s contest, 
For clearly he’s correct since music haps 
To conquer spirits and produce the raps, 

Whereby mankind obtain their wish, or chance 
Musicians fiddle and the spirits dance 
As brisk, as nimble as did those espied 
By Tam O’Shanter on his homeward ride; 

And like attired, but still ’t would not be strange 
If bloomers raged, for spirit styles may change. 

Some kindly spirits will, ’t is said, engage 
That the aspirant soon shall be a sage, 

To whose inviting all his kin shall come 
And with his household ever be at home, 

But with corporal raps he must begin, 

To test his faith, their confidence to win. 

One thus encouraged, (favor e’er delights,) 

Calls on his neighbor and to him recites, 

In florid language, his preferment grand, 


COMMENTS ON THE MARVELOUS 


13 


(Reward which merit only can command,) 

The fame exalted which is his to be; 

The honored name he’ll leave posterity; 

The trust important; burden his to bear; 

A garment few are fitted well to wear. 

At his harangue his friend indignant grows, 

And terms unpleasant on the sage bestows 
With equal zeal, and as he turns aside, 

(Reversing scripture as a better guide,) 

Bestows a kick (no matter where) and cries, 

“ Hence with your jargon,” and the hero flies, 
Conscious that he, although somewhat aggrieved, 
The rudiments en rapport has received, 

The fundamental principles, the right 
Initiation of the neophyte. 

Tempora mores! O what days are these! 
Wherein are masters of such mysteries, 

Whose explanations often prove to be, 

More than their subject far, a mystery. 

The owl behold, made strangely blind by light, 
Proclaiming wonders he espies at night; 

See man siestas take to swallow gas, 

Amazed, like Balaam, by a speaking ass; 

Ruptured by wonders, see the seer’s balloon; 
Behold a jackass braying at the moon. 

O thou ! forever honored, ever dear. 

The choicest blessing of this sinful sphere, 

Thou, who thy lineage to a rib can trace 
Of mortal man, the mother of our race, 

Wherefore art thou abused, when thou the stay 
Of mankind art, the bright, the solar ray 
That warms creation and so often tends 
To make men social with departed friends? 

Thou who art foremost of the sagely van, 

Striving for knowledge to impart to man, 

E’er standing ready to instruct, advise, 

To point the way to fame or paradise: 

Between the mortal and immortal state. 

An isthmian way that both accommodate; 


14 


COMMENTS ON THE MARVELOUS 


A fount Pierian, an oasis fair, 

Where rest the weary, muses where repair; 

A tree of knowledge whose abundant fruit 
Supplies the world with themes of grave dispute. 
Ay, ancients their philosophers may boast; 

Thou now art chief, a philosophic host, 

Whereby the world may shun all future fault, 
And season knowledge with thy Attic salt, 

For thou art favored, so exceeding blessed, 

That even spirits heed thy sweet behest, 

And first to thee the noble task assigned, 

In spirit wisdom to instruct mankind, 

E’en first addressed. T is said in days of eld, 
Men’s daughters were by sons of God beheld, 
Who saw that they were fair, hence took to wife 
And led, quite doubtless, a devoted life. 

Then why not spirits to the fair disclose 
Their secrets now-a-days as did gods in those? 
And why not man her judgment e’er prefer, 

Since spirits make a confident of her? 

Confess, vain man, for once confess the truth, 
And teach the instance to aspiring youth, 

That woman is essentially no goose, 

But thou, deemed wiser, art the greater moose. 
She has her doctrine and the same she keeps, 
And thou It proclaim it while she wisely sleeps. 
Consistency’s a jewel; hence, be true 
And give to woman her deserving due; 

Respecting well her rights, and be it sung, 

That chief among them is her use of tongue; 

The cause, no doubt, to which the spirits yield, 
At last o’erwearied by its long appeal. 

Give her her right, ’t is her peculiar strength, 

To say the last nor interrupt its length; 

By her be guided as she deems most fit, 

And trust your fortune to her ready wit; 

For though the weaker vessel, surely she 
Is strong in purpose as a man can be, 

And when occasion calls, urgent as love, 


\ 


COMMENTS ON THE MARVELOUS 


15 


Wise as a serpent, harmless as a dove. 

From superstition in some marked degree, 

No person living is entirely free; 

Some have but little, others have excess, 

Yet few’ll acknowledge that they aught possess. 
Though mystery is forever scouted, still, 

No spirit seance fails the seats to fill; 

O’ercredulous men go or far or near, 

The oracles miraculous to hear. 

So the gay hobby, folly, all deride, 

But seem determined ne’ertheless to ride. 

With children ’t is the first of April when 
They play their pranks, ’t is ev’ry day with men. 

A grand deception few desire to miss; 

To be deceived supplies a void in bliss: 

While truth’s rejected fraud is quick received, 

And more absurd the sooner ’t is believed. 

“Are present, spirits?” (the presiding seer,) 

Raps in reply and YES his pupils hear. 

The spirit language, skillfully designed, 

Two modest adverbs, yes and no, define, 

So rapt in brevity ’t would put to shame 
The mummest Spartan of historic fame, 

Yet how convincing, how impressive, grand; 

How gavel-like due order to command, 

And how obliging are the spirits when 
They knuckle condescendingly to men. 

O, Morse immortal ! worthy of the praise, 
Worthy the scepter and the crown of bays, 

For thou the founder of this language art, 

Language rhapsodic, telegraph the start, 

Since ’t is magnetic as the wise well know, 

From heaven extended to this world below, 
Through grave conductors, wondrous in design, 

A universal telegraphic line, 

Which once connected with a battery here, 

One e’er distinguished by a length of ear, 

Transmits such wondrous news with wondrous ease, 
The most exacting ought to be well pleased. 


16 


COMMENTS ON THE MARVELOUS 


Doubtless the seer with satisfaction’s filled, 

The while each nerve with fervid joy is thrilled, 
That he has lived to see this day, at least 
His star of glory rising in the east. 

Aspiring youth who wishes to pursue 
The path of Folly and her works renew, 

Receive this maxim in your early days, 

If you would dance, learn while the fiddler plays; 

If you would be befooled and also fool, 

While young commence, (you have a clever school,) 
But common sense and reason cast behind; 

Soar high with Folly and her castle find; 

Trace out the windings of her dusty maze; 

Repair her temple and her altar raise; 

Heed well her lessons; learn her every nod; 

Go there her fool, obey, return her god. 

Mount your diploma then, your hook prepare, 

Bait it with humbug and proceed with care 
A crowd of fools the potent mass espy, 

They jump and gorge it as the trout the fly. 
Around you soon a mighty throng they stand, 
Willing disciples under your command; 

With your eye seeing, hearing with your ear, 

They comprehend the matter and revere; 

Hence you ’ll be honored, lauded and perhaps 
Can call the spirits and produce the raps: 

Then shall you credit what full many prate, 

That God from nothing did the world create, 
Confirm it too. Declare the souls of seers 
Take their brains with them to the spirit spheres, 
(A thing so likely very few’ll deny, 

Since ne’er was needle burdened with its eye,) 

With which, for spirits who desire, they make 
Cerebral bodies for convenience sake, 

Since being thus materialized, they can 
Return (how pleasant) and commune with man. 

The past consider, its abundant store 
Of wonder-workers and pretended lore; 

Its superstitions, ignorance and then 


COMMENTS ON THE MARVELOUS 


17 


The present age with all its sagely men, 

The striking progress in the wondrous see, 

And tell, those able, what the next will be; 

What olden secrets shall be deemed as new; 

What future wonders shall be brought to view; 
What prophet shall, what vastly wise Dabolls, 
Predict the weather and amazing squalls; 

What Hercules, what Hydra shall appear, 

To hold the world in wonderment and fear. 

In magic lore encyclopedic read, 

And quite familiar with the restless dead, 

The great professor may declare, with whom 
The past, the present and the future room. 

Some revelator or prophetic seer 
May give a number that will make it clear. 
Wherefore discredit? Strange indeed if few 
Of many guesses prove not to be true; 

And ’t is agreed, approximation will 
Give near results without exerted skill. 

Wise in his calling is the modern seer, 

Many believe him and believing fear. 

Neology pervades his speeches, acts, 

And mystery’s ready to produce the facts; 
Nocturnal wisdom opens wide the door, 

He reads some secrets and predicts some more. 

To his demand grim Pluto has to yield, 

And in his suburbs grants him open field; 

Spirits from all parts come at his request, 

And much of knowledge, doubtful is the rest, 

To him make known. If this’s the proper course 
Such knowledge to obtain, and this the source, 
The wonder claims of old, why not then view 
As justly proper, possibly as true? 

For as impostures they have been believed, 

The pope excepted, all may be deceived. 

Discredit not the alchemists of yore, 

The Persian magi, Rosicrucian lore; 

To Apollonius give the credit due, 

And e’en proclaim the oracles are true. 


18 


COMMENTS ON THE MARVELOUS 


No longer doubt the astrologic sage, 

But keep his knowledge for a future age. 

The ancients’ gods regard as gods indeed; 

Build new their temples and their altars feed; 
Receive their omens as divine and show 
Full gratitude for all they did bestow. 

Mohammed’s doctrine swear to be correct, 

And hold the prophet in deserved respect. 

Believe in total Homer’s wondrous tale; 

For Hector dead behold the Trojans wail; 

Yes, see a Priam, Helen and a Troy; 

The heaven-built city see the Greeks destroy; 
Archilles’ wrath ! Now ’gainst the Greeks, now for, 
Behold the gods engaged in bloody war; 

See wounded Mars, loud bellowing with pain, 
Ascend Olympus to th’ ethereal plain. 

Grant ancient heroes did to hell descend, 

Some shade to visit, some departed friend; 

(A task now rendered futile, since ’t is clear, 

The shades have gained permit to visit here,) 
Admit that Orpheus tuned such dulcet strains, 

Ixion hearing, e’en forgot his pains, 

Inanimated matter moved in dance, 

And Time awaited in delightful trance. 

Believe that statues talked in days of old, 

And list the tales by trees and rivers told. 

No more the truth of augury impeach, 

Preach divination, thaumaturgy preach; 

Theosophy and theurgy respect; 

By casting lots prove sortilege correct; 

From chimney top, show capomancy true; 
Catophtromancy by reflection view; 

Bid chanticleer alectromancy fame; 

Grant lithomancy e’en the stones proclaim; 
Aeromancy potent cause to blow; 

Ebbed hydromancy cause again to flow; 

From onomancy doubt by name remove; 

With pick and shovel necromancy prove; 
Alphitomancy Graham-like, applaud; 


COMMENTS ON THE MARVELOUS 


19 


Deep in the stomach gastromancy laud; 
Cause pyromancy once again to blaze; 
Axinomancy, headman-like, upraise; 

In long discourses theomancy preach; 
Anthropomancy in post-mortem teach; 
Hieromancy at the altar read; 

Botanomancy prove by plants and seed; 
Onicromancy e’en with nails enforce; 
Dactilomancy teach in mute discourse, 

Prove chiromancy by the palms of men; 

Let ceromancy wax not cold again; 

With mystic wand show rabdomancy true; 
With belomancy war these doctrines through. 
Expended these, for truth and honor’s sake, 
Of pandemonium go a lesson take; 

For arts unchristened on fit terms decide, 
And prudently for those to be, provide. 

Craniomancy give to Gall the head; 
Mesmeromancy grant as Mesmer bread; 
Electromancy, pulsomancy next; 

Politomancy to provide the text; 
Medicomancy, malomancy pair; 

Biblicomancy give presiding chair; 

Grant mythomancy, stultomancy space; 

Futuromancy hasten into place 

Let psychomancy be of these the soul, 

And omnimancy represent the whole. 

What need of science? cast it all aside, 
It’s old and futile, a delusive bride; 

In its behalf, behold what waste of brain, 
What midnight oil consumed and all in vain. 
Lo now its sun with an enfeebled ray, 
Threatens to close a long fallacious day. 

A mirage rises o’er the dreary waste, 

And feeble science has to give it place: 

A greater science far this mirage makes, 

And shows to man his many past mistakes; 
Also imparts to him such wondrous skill, 

He gains the secrets e’en of heaven at will. 


20 


COMMENTS ON THE MARVELOUS 


Who can resist such plain and potent lore, 
When gods with trembling, doubtlessly adore? 

How vain, O Newton, was thy great career? 
How vain thy labors once considered clear? 

Who now thy famed Principle will read, 

Neath the effulgence of a SUN indeed? 

Who now presumptive, will assume the stage 
And preach attraction to the present age? 

Who’ll now proclaim the universal law 
Of gravitation, without sense of awe? 

What Galileo now would dare to say, 

The earth turns on its axis once a day? 

On mathematics who for proof will call, 

When all’s a part and naught’s the germ of all? 

Ah, humble science, hide thy feeble ray, 

Since modern doctrines ope a brighter day, 

In whose refulgence Wisdom stands revealed, 

Nor is there place where she can be concealed; 
E’en Mystery in nudity appears, 

Nor finds respect, entreating though with tears 
The sage majestic points to man the road 
Leading to Knowledge; fixes her abode, 

E’en shows the entrance and delivers o’er 
The brazen key to ope th’ enchanted door. 

Science no longer should mankind deceive, 
Since perfect knowledge they can now receive. 

A wise professor ever is at hand, 

And all of knowledge lies at his command; 

For e’en the soul becomes his willing slave, 

And who shall question things beyond the grave? 
With thunderbolts of wisdom, he makes clear 
The impotency of all knowledge here. 

Hence, whatsoe’er exists, it is inferred 
Of art or science, (now become absurd,) 

Shall be abolished and new truths shall glow, 

In all the splendor of a phantom show. 

Lo! the aurora from long night released, 

Of a new era blushes in the east, 

And all of knowledge to the present day, 


COMMENTS ON THE MARVELOUS 


21 


Like dew before the sun, must pass away; 

But, dear old science, worthy of a tear, 

A thing that has been and considered clear, 

May thy dear shade return like mortal shade, 

E’en though delusive, yet with less parade, 

And sense sufficient to collect and fire 
Thy musty treatise for thy fun’ral pyre. 

Naught new beneath the sun O, wisest king, 

In this wise age thou otherwise wouldst sing, 

For doctrines new with ev’ry sage appears, 

And many, too, believe who chance to hear, 

(A fact not over strange it may be said, 

Since it is doubtful if all fools are dead,) 

But as of old, all’s vanity ’t is true, 

And mere vexation of the spirit too. 

Go, philomat, auspicious is the time, 

Embrace and view yourself as quite sublime; 

Learn the conditions in the spirit spheres, 

Their bounds determine and consult their seers. 

Go find the path where Folly e’er has trod; 

Propose yourself to be her dunce or god; 

Her bidding do and her esteem to gain, 

Lay down and slumber where she e’er has lain: 

Not pleased with this, but wishing to become 
The chief of all, the great I AM at home, 

Soar to some nebula where chaos reigns, 

And make a system new with cosmic pains; 
Prescribe the orbit that each sphere shall run, 

Then center self as the refulgent sun. 

Build there a temple, dedicate the same, 

A Psychomantium to your well earned fame, 

And then you can, quite doubtless thought perhaps, 
Convene the spirits and obtain the raps, 

But trespassers to bar while in debate, 

Keep a Cerberean warden at the gate. 

If you desire when you are perfect, then 
Return to earth, declare your lore to men; 

By precept prove it and make those receive, 

Who are convinced not and the whole believe; 


22 


COMMENTS ON THE MARVELOUS 


Maintain it faithful to the pronoun I; 

Pugnis et calcibus, succeed or die. 

Swear all these arts have corresponding bumps, 
Spirits phrenologists, hence raps or thumps. 

Claim an Olympus rises on the head, 

Where mesmerizing faculties are bred, 

And where the gods in council oft convene, 

And thundering Jove declaims on things unseen. 
Ay, as the Alps their many peaks uprear, 

Say many bumps upon the head appear, 

New in phrenology, but truthful still, 

Though out the scope of Fowler’s boasted skill; 
The habitations, like the chick’s no doubt, 

Of prisoned spirits rapping to get out. 

Such bumps and many say you sure possess, 

And thank kind heaven that they are no less; 
Then to mankind you’ll plainly prove at once, 

A wondrous doctrine and a wondrous dunce. 

O, sagely rider of the mystic steed, 

Bellerophon consider and take heed; 

Collect your reins, restrain your mad career, 

And list to reason, if devoid of fear, 

A pleasing vision yours indeed would be, 

If you could see yourself as others see; 

Sweet consolation too, you would receive, 

Half that you preach e’en should you half believe, 
When you consider (which is not o’er plain,) 

The real merit you so justly gain; 

Ay, great the joy the honest truth would give, 

If you on earth, another life could live, 

And then behold the great aggrandized self, 

In dusty volumes thrown behind the shelf; 

Or bound in sheep or gilt in calf instead, 
Doubtless forgotten and in fact ne’er read: 

Or your descendants hear — “There grandsire lies, 
A mighty fool and fools who thought him wise; 
Fore’er deluding that he might arise 
To fame exalted in his hearers’ eyes; 

Not once observing, like a stagnant bog, 


COMMENTS ON THE MARVELOUS 23 

Himself was shrouded in his own dear fog; 

Exceeding wise, and yet should bullfrogs croak, 

Would raise militia and a war provoke.” 

Dismiss the sage, to common sense return, 

And henceforth strive a worthy name to earn, 

Which, though not great, at least will be exempt 
The fools’ applauses and the wise’s contempt. 

Deceive not, neither be deceived of choice, 

But list to reason’s ever truthful voice. 

E’er be courageous without seeming bold; 

Think e’er you act and e’er you think behold; 

First be convinced, then candidly decide, 

And save your honor if you lose your pride. 


HUDIBRAS SECOND 


O NCE on a time, no matter when, 

In priestly garb, a man of men, 
Considered his vocation lay, 

In pointing out the narrow way, 

But sad to say, the call he heard 
Must sure have been a doubtful word. 

Sir Don Quixote he could surpass, 

E’en Hudibras out-Hudibras: 

Therefore for him the name is due, 

And this, his history, to you; 

Howe’er the hero to present, 

It ’s fit to use the present tense. 

Sanctimonious is his dress; 

Immaculate his shirt and vest; 

His collar upright; necktie white; 

His boots well polished; keen his sight; 
Acute his hearing when he hears; 

His hair brushed smoothly back his ears; 
His face clean shaven, as in wearing 
A beard were tantamount to swearing, 

Or deeming chance, that to be saved, 

’T is requisite to be well shaved, 
Important as repent and be 
Baptized, or needful all the three. 

His voice to converts on their knees, 
Is like a gentle summer breeze; 

The rushing of a mighty wind 
To others who have often sinned, 

As he declares, hence deems it well 
To give them just a little hell. 

He searches scripture without doubt, 
(All are supposed to, or about,) 

And with caloric becomes posted, 

To show full many will get roasted. 

He doubtless often courts the muse, 


24 


HUDIBRAS SECOND 


25 


And never fails to read the news, 

Wherein his sermons praise is given, 

The editor has pass to heaven, 

But if adversely criticised, 

His home is elsewhere than the skies. 

His acquaintance too is great 
In this, also the other state; 

As he quite frequently proclaims, 

Nor hesitates to give their names. 

He says he knows a man of hell, 

A little nasty infidel, 

Whose soul in smallness naught surpasses, 
God could not see it e’en with glasses. 

To Satan he will oft allude, 

His home and his inquietude; 

How he e’er roams both far and near, 
And how persuades — never by fear — 

Full many to his warm abode, 

And e’en directs them on the road. 

With what forethought and extra pains, 
He there a constant fire maintains, 

So that his guests, or young or old, 

May never suffer with the cold. 

Sure other hosts, with half the care, 
Would gain a reputation rare. 

Knows the apostles, one and all, 

Luke, Matthew, Peter, John and Paul; 
And once if torrid clime they name 
Full fifty times he cites the same, 

To show the neophyte the need 
Of due repentance and the creed; 

But chiefly Judas he’ll present, 

As one too sinful to repent, 

By way of warning, meant for him 
Who falls from grace ad interim. 

The envious gift he surely holds, 

In tantalizing simple souls, 

By probing old forgotten sores, 

And proselyting them by scores. 


26 


HUDIBRAS SECOND 


For one more stubborn or more cool, 
Not choosing to become his tool, 

This insufficient should he find, 

It’s hell before and wrath behind; 

While universalists he claims, 

Are subjects for eternal flames. 

He deems religion vastly fine, 

Since well it answers his design, 

To rave and rant as mad or drunk; 

To show mankind his goodly spunk; 

To shake o’er hell by hair or heel, 

All those who’ll not before him kneel, 
That they a foretaste may receive 
Of the to-come, perhaps believe; 

Or fright the simple into fits, 

With horrid tales of torrid pits, 

To which they surely will be sent, 

If they’ll not heed him and repent. 

He proves himself as orthodox, 

By pious oaths and pulpit knocks; 

That he is of that chosen few, 

Whom men with reverence should view, 
But not examine closely, lest 
A wolf appear in sheep-skin vest. 

He founds his faith upon a creed, 
Expressly made to meet his need; 

To preach a terrifying love; 

Horrors below, vengeance above, 

And to his hearers e’er explains, 

By sulphur smoke, Gehenna pains, 

The woeful strait that they are in, 

So burdened with primeval sin, 

Of which they never can be free, 

Until the wrath to-come they flee; 
Hence will, without the aid of church, 
Be left entirely in the lurch. 

Thus are avoided ills expectant, 

Since sulphur is a disinfectant, 

And what a pleasure ’t is to know 


HUDIBRAS SECOND 


27 


The heavenly highway lies below; 

Or that hell fires induces love, 

And a desire for life above. 

He shows he’s apt, judicious too, 

By doing what he’s called to do, 
Converting all he can, for sure, 

The wherewithal he must procure, 

And greater is his flock, ’t is clear, 

The greater ’ll be the fleece he’ll shear; 
Well he considers whence his meat, 
Whence his apparel, who shall treat. 

The case he fully understands, 

And speech appropriate commands; 
Awhile the deacon, solemn, thin, 

With box in hand, collects the tin. 

“Be bountiful, give one and all, 

Or rich or poor or great or small, 

Give to the Lord, O freely give, 

That you may taste his bread and live;” 
But sure it seems surprising strange, 

The Lord should e’er be wanting change. 

Baptismal rites he can perform, 

Quite equal to a thunder storm; 

But ’t is his chief delight to dip 
The maiden fair with rosy lip; 

And chance to faith in bringing o’er, 
Souls oft are saved while making more, 
For multiply is heaven’s command, 

A text not hard to understand. 

Gesticulation’s his delight, 

Often appearing as in fight; 

Now on defence, now at the foe, 

Now shunning, giving now a blow; 

In short no pugilistic skill 
Could better represent the bill. 

Becoming warm in his discourse, 

He rallies this reserve, a force. 

With changing pace he walks the stage; 
Stamps frequently as in a rage; 


28 


HUDIBRAS SECOND 


Distorts his features, sways and twists; 
E’en shakes his head and oft his fists; 
Swings his long arms, rumples his hair, 
And rolls his eyes as in despair. 
Meantime a wordy torrent flows 
Incessant from beneath his nose; 
Unwonted warmth pervades the place, 
While many wipe a moistened face, 

But whether caused by heat or tears; 
By perspiration, many fears; 

By the ridiculous or pain, 

’T is left the hearers to explain. 

Perhaps he thinks devotion lies 
In frantic, gestural exercise, 

Or one in order to preach right, 

Must preach damnation and despite, 
And truly, that to fail in this, 

Would surely be to go amiss; 

That thus on Sunday it is best 
To labor hard, week days to rest; 

That he is called, hence all is well, 

And he will never go to hell, 

Or if he should has little doubt, 

The devil soon would turn him out. 

Howe’er, his hearers having sense, 
Avoid to give, take no offence, 

But rather as a comic play, 

Regard his preaching in his way, 

And would as soon his doctrine heed 
As much on tombstones that they read. 

A few become a little out, 

Who ne’er neglect to hear him spout; 
While some deem him almost divine, 
And to pray always thus define, 

As meaning posture one is in, 

When he craves pardon for a sin. 

Of this opinion one ’t is said, 

Stands quite erect upon her head, 

(Since to be good is to include 


HUDIBRAS SECOND 


29 


A meek and trying attitude,) 

Forgetful of her style of dress, 

Of self forgetful too no less, 

And, clad in Paradisic breeches, 

Aloud for piety beseeches. 

Others not only always pray, 

But any where, or night or day; 

E’en in the wilderness will raise 
Their voices high in pious praise, 

As if the Lord was at a distance, 

Or could not hear without assistance. 

Such is indeed the proselite 
Who for his doctrine e’en will fight, 

And such the second Hudibras, 

Much like a preacher as an ass, 

Who’ll pax vobiscum to all those 
Who see no farther than their nose, 

And never read but always view 
His ipse dixit to be true, 

With those who’ll not with him agree, 
You’re hellward bound’s his final plea. 

A few words more before the close, 
Which should perhaps be said in prose — 
And sure ’t would be the quickest way 
To say what little there’s to say — 

Since verse is only partly true, 

And he should have all credit due. 

In fact he’s not so bad a fellow 
Although he likes so well to bellow, 

As many others, but there’s a doubt 
If they are plenty hereabout; 

That he discredits half or more, 

Of what he preaches o’er and o’er, 

And marvels much that he’s believed, 
That men are bound to be deceived. 


A LETTER 


B ROTHER JOHN, since you accuse me 
Riding the winged horse of old time, 
And the saw is undisputed, 

That is, name and game concerning, 

For this once I will adopt it, 

Though to please the fancy only. 

Well, old boy, I find beside me, 

Once again the beast Pegasus, 

Looking hither, looking thither, 

Forward, backward, right, sinister; 

Pawing empty air, regardless 
Of his feet, his nerve and muscle; 

Rearing, snorting, as impatient 
For a rider. And I mount him, 

Without saddle, without bridle, 

Without any means to guide him; 

Without knowing where he’ll take me; 
Without heeding much, I fancy; 

Without warrant but he’ll throw me, 

As Bellerophon he once did: 

And he shoots off like an arrow 
From the bow of great Ulysses; 

Going wheresoe’er he pleases, 

E’en regardless of his rider, 

And regardless of the dangers 
Lying in the way before him. 

O’er Parnassus he goes prancing; 

Sinks Olympus with his foot-fall; 

Upsets Archimedes’ lever, 

Spite of all the sage’s loud boasting; 
Overturns e’en Rhodes’ colossus; 

Knocks the keys of the hereafter, 

Out the hands of Pete’s successor, 

Stumps the beast of Revelation, 

The six hundred, six and sixty. 

30 


A LETTER 


31 


Ethiopia next he visits; 

Makes the leopard change his raiment, 
And the negro’s skin some lighter. 

Into Egypt then he hastens, 

Stamps the top off Cheops’ stone heap; 
O’erthrows Cleopatra’s needle; 

Tramps the flags along the Nilus; 

Even ruins Moses’ cradle; 

Frightens Pharaoh’s kindly daughter; 

Of their rags denudes the mummies; 

Fords the Red sea without trouble; 

Finds a lot of ancient wagons, 

Of Pharaoh’s misadventure relics. 

Through the Wilderness he rushes; 
Kicks the calf of Aaron over; 

Scatters wide the children’s breakfast, 

And the children in disorder. 

Stands upon the rock and gets him 
In the cleft thereof with Moses, 

Thence beholds Jehovah’s back parts, 

E’en the Lord’s, when He is passing. 
Gallops thundering o’er Sinai; 

Stamps to atoms Moses’ schoolhouse, 

And the slates whereon he ciphered. 

Next kicks Babel into chaos; 

Kicks the ark off Noah’s mountain; 

E’en the mountain to Mahomet, 

And Confucius out his temple. 

Stamps in dust Lot’s helpless helpmeet; 
Spares not e’en the prophets’ tombstones; 
Knocks poor Job into the gutter, 

Breaks his boils and breaks his patience; 
Leaves him groaning, leaves him cursing, 
Cursing God and fleet Pegasus. 

Rouses Lot from his potations, 

And his daughters to seek husbands. 
Frights away Elijah’s ravens; 

Starts the sun upon its journey, 


32 


A LETTER 


And the moon from out the valley. 

Through the land of Nod he hastens, 
Kicking Cain into a canebreak, 

Who to get thence is not Abel. 

Speeds relentlessly through Eden, 

E’en through Adam’s model garden; 
Shakes the orchard fruit forbidden; 
Makes a perfect havoc therein, 

And our parents to skedaddle, 

Strewing fig leaves in their pathway; 

And the serpent too he frightens 
Out his skin and out his play ground. 

Then with fleetness he speeds onward, 
Strewing widely Isaac’s wood pile, 

Which his father had collected, 

With much labor, in the back woods; 
Leaving Gomorrah in a pickle, 

And her sister Sodom likewise; 

Leaves the children’s home to strangers; 
Leaves confusion in his pathway; 

Naught but ruin leaves behind him. 

Still he pushes, hastens onward, 

Never halting, never tiring, 

As if fresh upon his journey, 

And a long way lay before him, 

Without station, without depot, 

Without inn or even stable, 

Where to stop and get a luncheon, 

Or saloon to get a drink at. 

Neither is his course the straightest, 

For he swings around the circle, 

As if chasing Andy Johnson, 

Or to save the constitution; 

Heedless of his own the meantime, 

And his rider, I am thinking. 

Ride I must, like Tam O’Shanter, 
Since there is no slacking, halting, 

In the pace of the famed charger; 

Hence, no safety in dismounting, 


A LETTER 


33 


Yet the chances are potential, 

For he is slippy as an iceberg; 

Slippy as a schooner’s foremast, 

Newly slushed with refuse greases, 

By a tar who knows his business; 

Even as an eel he’s slippy, 

As an eel just from the river, 

From his home among the rushes, 
From his mud bed ’neath the waters. 

Oft he rears upon his haunches; 
Shakes himself, as the fierce tempest 
Shakes the tree tops in its fury; 
Shakes himself as if to rid him 
Of his rider; but ’t is useless, 

For he clings to him the closer; 

Clings to him in desperation; 

Tooth and nail he utilizes, 

To maintain his dire position. 

Then he wheels upon his hind feet; 
Gyrates like a rushing whirlwind, 
Rapid as Don Quixote’s windmill, 

Till he finds his efforts futile, 

Then he shoots off like a bombshell, 
With a trail of fire behind it; 

Going where I do not care to; 
Wheresoe’er his fancy takes him, 

Even over all creation, 

And beyond its limits also, 

Into darkness and old chaos, 

Waking up the empty shadows, 

Which, affrighted by his hoof-beat, 
Frighted into shapeless wreathings, 
Stand as rooted in their footsteps; 

E’en Chimera stands confounded, 
’Mazed by such a visitation. 

Through Tartarus next and Hades, 
He speeds forward unresisted; 

Kicks old Satan in the stomach; 


34 


A LETTER 


Shuts him up e’en like a jackknife; 
Leaves him howling in the gutter, 

Like a child with cruel colic, 

Scalps Tisiphone in passing, 

Scalps her with his dextrous forefoot; 
Leaves her dyeing fresh her mantle, 

And her bloody vestment shaking. 

Turning then he kicks like fury, 

Kicks the massive gates asunder, 

From their rusty hinges kicks them, 
Kicks them into the Phlegethon; 

Makes an entrance for the cold wind; 
Leaves the inmates in a shiver 
Shaking in the cold that enters; 

Leaves a ruin and no pitch hot. 

Then for Styx he pushes forward; 
Pushes Charon from his moorings, 

Pushes him out on the river, 

Without oar, without rudder, 

Who, thus helpless, floats adown stream, 
Loudly crying for assistance. 

Next Pegasus leaps the river, 

With a mighty bound he leaps it, 

Leaps among the manes waiting, 

Waiting for the grim old boatman, 
Waiting for a passage over, 

And will have to wait forever. 

But my steed’s becoming weary, 
Weary of his task and rider; 

Yet his pace keeps notwithstanding; 
Keeps until beside my table 
He arrives, then halts most willing, 

Halts and quickly I dismount him, 
Thank him kindly for his kindness, 

In thus leaving where he found me. 

Then he leaves me, leaves with fleetness; 
Leaves me for the stars, I take it, 

Where he’ll rest from his long journey, 
Where he’ll rest, I trust, forever, 



I 


A LETTER 35 

Or desiring to be ridden, 

He’ll select another rider; 

For I ’m satisfied abundant, 

And am willing to forego it, 

Willing henceforth and for all time. 

Now I ’ll touch upon a subject, 

Slightly, for it needs but few words, 

And less said the sooner ended; 

On a subject more important, 

One more interest possessing, 

One that if I do not mention. 

You would think me stupid justly; 

One of which you will prefer more 

To receive some information 

Than the whole that’s written thus far; 

But to be somewhat consistent, 

In like manner I’ll rehearse it. 

We are well, or well as usual; 

Seldom sick but e’er complaining; 

Passing as it were ’tween stations, 

Health behind, ahead the graveyard. 

Well are others, friends and kindred. 

Well as common far as I know. 

Albert lives still where he long has; 

Elizabeth’s left the Ferry, 

Lives just o’er the bridge in Preston, 

In a house built by A. Tanner, 

Noted far and near, the captain, 

Mary lives upon the small farm, 

With her husband, on the old road, 

Near the site of the old schoolhouse, 

Where we learned to shoot in youth-time* 

Wealthy still lives in the city 
And her man’s still on the railroad. 

Denison lives near the old place, 

Near the old place once his father’s. 

At Woonsocket Asahel’s stopping, 

Stopping with a Mr. Ellis, 

Engineer both good and civil, 


36 


A LETTER 


On the P. and W. railroad. 

As to self, I ’m like Othello, 

Like him as to occupation, 

Otherwise am quite unlike him. 
Railroading with me at present 
Is not, but another matter 
Now engrosses my attention, 

Namely, damming up the waters, 

A damned business ’t is admitted. 

When that’s finished — Well, sufficient 
To the day thereof ’s the evil. 

Hannah is the same old sixpence, 
Wanting only those great blessings, 
Health the chief and means t’ enjoy it. 
Uncle Sharp his work has finished, 

And is sleeping with his fathers. 

Now please write soon as convenient; 
Soon as you have time, I pray you; 
Write and give us a full story, 

Ail the news and how your health is, 
And the health of all the wee ones, 

Or were when I last beheld them. 

And your helpmate, too, remember; 

Tell how she is, tell us all things, 

All things you and yours concerning. 

A good-by I now will bid you 
For a season, and assured be, 

That you have our kindest wishes, 

You and yours. Please remember 
Us to friends, or great or little. 

Au revoir. Yours truly, Hiram. 


PASSING EVENTS 


D EAR BROTHER JOHN, old Time strides on : 
Scarce heeding our existence; 

His scythe is keen, nor oft I ween, 

He meets prolonged resistance. 

With tireless pace, he hastes the race, 

And all must needs be in it, 

But none as yet, with him dare bet, 

For he is sure to win it. 

We ever strain both arm and brain, 

Some mark to leave behind us; 

He mows his swath, appearing wroth, 

And who shall ever find us. 

So goes the world, in ruin hurled, 

Before ’t is half completed; 

Today with joy, man makes his toy, 

Tomorrow finds him sheeted. 

But you the news I ’ll not refuse, 

Though hardly worth reciting: 

We are today, who more could say, 

Should he fore’er be writing. 

Still ’t is confessed, it’s doubtless best 
To be somewhat explicit; 

But not like those who all disclose, 

Lest they should seem deficit; 

Or those who prate of poor estate, 

Of others’ faults amazing; 

Of woes, misdeeds, their neighbors’ needs, 

Their own dear virtues praising. 

37 


PASSING EVENTS 


The mean I ’ll take for conscience’ sake, 
Like charity, commencing 

At home, and tell whate’er is well, 

With calumny dispensing. 

My wife complains of illness, pains, 

And suffers without question; 

For well she knows catarrhal woes, 

And those of indigestion. 

Our only boy must health enjoy, 

Else he belies his feeding; 

Although most work he’s apt to shirk, 
The dinner bell he’s heeding. 

Your servant, I, am truly Hi., 

Yet sober as the Quakers, 

And when I ’m plaid, the trick I ’m ’fraid, 
Will be the undertaker’s. 

’Lib gets along and doctor John, 

As usual at the Ferry: 

Wealth’ and her boy fair health enjoy, 
Likewise Gubbins and Mary. 

Albert and Sue, in years ’t is true, 

Are hardy notwithstanding, 

And Jim, their son, (not quite a ton,) 

His usual health’s commanding. 

Young Den and flock, in pants or smock, 
Are well to my best knowing; 

Kin, one and all, or great or small, 

Can make a decent showing. 

Afflictions sore, the household o’er 
Of deacon Warren, hover; 

His wife’s insane from soft’ning brain, 
And never can recover. 


PASSING EVENTS 


39 


We all are heirs of many cares, 

Few days and full of trouble; 

Real a few, while some ’t is true, 

We oft are apt to double. 

Friends have deceased, yielded the lease 
Of life, its pains and pleasures; 

Their checks passed in — wages of sin — 

Filled up their earthly measures. 

Jim Barnes you knew. Well, he is through, 
And others too beside him, 

Whom you have known. But who will own 
That he ’d have death denied him. 

Old boy, it’s true of me, of you, 

As those who’ve gone before us, 

The time will come when — not at home ! 
But, comfort, none can bore us. 

The weather next (’t is in the text,) 

Will briefly be recited. 

A winter fair, without compare, 

Has passed and all delighted. 

The rains of spring the flowers bring. 

The rains the earth is drinking; 

Yet days quite keen oft intervene, 

Winter’s bequest, I ’m thinking. 

The present rage upon the stage 
Is presidential bawling: 

Some blow for Blaine as if insane, 

And some for Grant are calling. 

Sherman ’s the best, it is confessed, 

But has least show of winning; 

Third term Grant’s chance does not enhance; 
Blaine has repute for sinning. 


PASSING EVENTS 


The democrats too have their spats, 

Some over Tilden revel; 

Some Thurman howl, some Bayard growl, 
And doubtless some the devil. 

Now I am through. T is hoped that you 
Will soon an answer write us, 

And if you tell that all are well, 

Be sure it will delight us. 


DISSIMULATION 

To Brother Reuben 

S OME verses you request: — Such as I make, 

If they will answer, you are free to take; 

Think not, howe'er, I write for praise or claim, 

For these poor numbers, an extended fame, 

Or as a poet wand’ring o’er a maze, 

E’er dreaming hopeful of a crown of bays; 

For humble is my muse, and her desire 
Is truth to honor, virtue to admire; 

While vice and falsehood she, without restraint, 
Fears not to censure, e’en in seeming saint. 

Dissimulation be the chosen theme, 

Its many phases and illusive dream; 

A strange distemper mortals must endure, 

Which metaphysics ne’er was known to cure, 

For e’en should Locke secure the door, the ill 
Espies the keyhole, hence an entrance still. 

That ’t is contagious, and that only few 
’Scape the infection, is no more than true. 

Let us examine, (bearing e’er in mind, 

That prone to evil ways are all mankind, 

For thus does Paul the question fairly meet, 

“The spirit’s willing but the flesh is weak,) 

The matter well and strive the course to trace 
Of this misfortune, fraught with e’en disgrace; 

Ne’er swerving from the right, but ever aim, 

Where ’t is deserved, to fix the proper blame; 

And should we seem severe at times, we trust 
The case will show the censure to be just. 

Hypocrisy walks not alone, howe’er, 

It has companion, fraud is ever near; 

Parents of lies the twain, and ever are 
Fostered by knaves, the knave’s directing star. 

First “Search the scriptures, for ye think therein 


41 


42 


DISSIMULATION 


Ye have eternal life;” hence there begin. 

Of many texts there ’s need but few to take. 
Adam the woman blames and she the snake. 
Where is thy brother Abel? asks the Lord: 

I do not know; is he indeed my ward? 

But Cain is punished, not a life for life; 

He dwells in Nod and takes himself a wife. 

Lot’s daughters fair, to gratify desire, 

Or save the race, intoxicate their sire. 

Jacob deceives his father, and ’t is true, 

Defrauds his brother of his birthright too; 

His wife e’en steals her father’s gods, and he 
With wife and chattels, take the night to flee; 

His sons deceive the Hittites, lie most base, 

First maim, then slay them, and their city waste. 
Joseph is sold to Egypt by his kin, 

Who use deception to conceal their sin. 

The Jews the jewelry of Egypt loan, 

And soon forget but that it is their own. 

The vile Delilah gives her lord away, 

And from his foes take stipulated pay. 

King David likes the man but loves the wife, 

And pays the difference with Uriah’s life. 

It takes a thousand women to suffice 
The boundless love of Solomon the wise; 

No envious record it must be confessed, 

And of a people deemed to be the best: 

If not enough, search further if you will, 

And say which most prevails, deeds good or ill; 
Uprightness, virtue, charity and trust, 

Or fraud, oppression, selfishness and lust. 

After the chosen people were dispersed, 
Abandoned by Jehovah, even cursed, 

’T is papal Rome of persecutors chief, 

Assumed to be the legatee; in brief, 

The keeper of the faith, the body, soul, 

And authorized expounder of the whole. 

What does the record show? Fraud and distrust, 
Hypocrisy, oppression, boundless lust; 


DISSIMULATION 


43 


Bloodshed and wars, apparently for spite, 
Aggrandizement the rather than for right; 
Suppression of the truth if ’gainst the creed; 
Inflicted tortures, horrible indeed; 

The noted villains licensed for a price, 

To do all deeds of violence and vice; 

Despoliation to procure supplies, 

E’en of the needy, or by force or lies; 

Anathemas, the Inquisition. Now 
The pope’s infallible at late pow-wow. 

Dissensions next arise, protests, reform, 

And fierce, portentous, breaks the Christian storm. 
Of the chief parties, (both have doubtless right,) 
Each to condemn the other take delight; 

One excommunicates and one decries; 

While each the other bitterly defies, 

One sings the Te Deum, the other psalms; 

Both take to cursing next, and next to arms. 

The common people next espouse the war, 

Yet have no reason to advance therefor, 

Save doctors quarrel; hence, to be in vogue, 

Each apes his teacher to escape the rogue. 

Brother opposes brother in the strife, 

And hate’s engendered e’en ’tween man and wife: 
Meanwhile the passions wily churchmen whet, 

As if on discord and contention set; 

For all fanatics deem themselves inspired; 

Hence faction quarrels are by them desired, 

And woe the weaker party, e’er so good, 

Since might makes right, a law well understood. 
Thus hate to anger leads, anger to strife, 

And strife to bloodshed and the waste of life; 

Till wars succeed to bigotry’s demand, 

And holy horrors desolate the land. 

Hypocrisy and fraud still hold their sway, 

And will most likely, to the final day; 

Yet not so open, neither quite so vile, 

Since honest aspect answers to beguile. 

Still human nature holds about the same, 


44 


DISSIMULATION 


But vast improvements can the churches claim, 
For while denominations, creeds increase, 

The less there is of fighting, more of peace; 

Give one the power, howe’er, pity the rest, 

For persecution spares not e’en the best. 

The church is neither better nor more free 
From show, dissension, than it ought to be; 

And though religion’s well, so very rare 
Are honest Christians heaven has none to spare. 
Full oft the name’s assumed with aspect grave, 
But to provide a garment for the knave. 

Thus reappear the Pharisees again, 

With long discourses to be heard by men, 

Who occupy chief places, go and come, 

And wantonly devour the widow’s home. 

Quite often he who wears a Christiancoat 
Fleeces the sheep and shaves the worldly goat; 
Yet for the sinner claims his love is great, 

But greater still is it for good estate. 

Though fond of self, of mammon ’s extra fond, 

He wants due payment or ’ll exact the bond; 
Hence takes the utmost farthing from the poor, 
Nor hesitates to jew Jew, Greek or Moor. 

The keen-eyed knave espies a goodly chance, 

In change of garb his fortune to advance; 

Nor long delays in foremost seat to perch, 

Tell his experience, join the thriving church. 

The ceremony’s solemn, he is grave, 

The parson dubs him Christian, charlatan, knave. 

Those having doubt, the case can fairly meet, 
Since proof of pudding is of it to eat; 

But ten to one they’ll find a costly school, 

And gain the knowledge credited the fool; 

But dear bought wisdom, let it be confessed, 
Where nothing less will answer, must be best. 

Lo the poor heathen 1 (whose especial need 
Is our kind care, as we are heaven’s indeed; 

Who is in sin benighted still; ’t is said, 

In helpful ethics being poorly read,) 


DISSIMULATION 


45 


Has his belief and thereto will adhere 
Strict as his betters, and no less sincere. 

In ignorance and superstition reared, 

He makes his deities to be revered, 

Erects his temple, puts his idols there, 

And bows before them reverent in prayer; 

E’en ’neath the car of Juggernaut he lies, 

And gives himself a willing sacrifice; 

Yet ’t is quite likely that implicit trust 
In him might oft result in dust to dust; 

Or possibly some naked bones at least, 

Would indicate that there had been a feast. 

The stern highwayman takes the public road, 

And “life or money” is his well known code: 

There ’s no dissimulation, for ’t is clear 
He ’ll show no mercy as he knows no fear, 

Yet to the needy he will often give, 

With “to let live, my friend, includes to live.” 

The pirates spread their canvas to the breeze, 

And make themselves a terror of the seas, 

But have some honor, since they sure believe 
It’s necessary bond between dear thieves. 

The worldly people show just what they are, 
Mechanic, tradesman or the rough old tar; 

They have no garment to conceal deceit, 

Nor pious love their fellow men to cheat. 

Many are tricksters, but they have the name; 

Hence, those gulled by them are themselves to blame. 

Thus e’er we find, go wheresoe’er we will, 

Though different in degree, the evil still; 

But circumstances modify the blame, 

Even in cases which result the same. 

The wise and fool commit a like offence; 

Would equal blame accord with common sense? 

Is there no distinction, just the case surmise, 

Whether the devil or an angel lies? 

But law and justice, ever in demand, 

Walk not together always hand in hand. 

A starving wretch purloins a loaf of bread, 


46 


DISSIMULATION 


The law is outraged, he to jail is led. 

The trusted knave purloins the public purse, 

And he’s a hero few will dare to curse; 

Or steals the scanty savings of the poor, 

And ’scapes by taking recreative tour; 

The law refuses to pursue the game, 

And blushing justice hides her head in shame. 

The matter to conclude, ’t is deemed but right, 
Certain transactions, certain truths to cite, 

If few are wholly evil, we confess, 

The absolutely good are even less; 

But be the number howe’er great or small, 

Due credit should be given each and all. 

Honest intent, e’er since the world began, 

In Christian, pagan, makes the honest man, 
Courage the hero, cowardice the slave, 

Pretense the hypocrite and greed the knave. 

Herein the latter chiefly is condemned, 

Since he defrauds his brother and his friend; 

But his reward he ’ll have, his doctrine true, 

And most assuredly there is much his due. 

By observation joined with common sense, 
Sincerity ’s discerned from mere pretense; 

Hatred from love; from superstition fact; 

Virtue from vice; incompetence from tact; 

From want abundance; chastity from lust; 

Discord from harmony; distrust from trust; 

From charity oppression; right from wrong; 
Daylight from darkness; sorrowing from song; 
Hence some precaution should, at least, be used, 
Since quite too often confidence is abused. 
Therefore, dear brother, though you were deceived 
By pious knave, (unfit to be believed,) 

Why should you be surprised? or why rebel? 
Rather rejoice that you escaped so well. 

Take no offense, for whate’er else may fail, 

The truth is mighty and it will prevail. 

What use lamenting then? the case is clear, 

You are some wiser though it cost you dear; 


DISSIMULATION 


47 


Still wisdom ’s needful whatsoe’er the price, 

And oft’s obtained by taking poor advice. 

“Put not your trust in princes,” is too old 
To be neglected. When desire for gold 
Is more than honor, stronger than the creed, 

It’s indications which it’s well to heed. 

The better way is to commence aright, 

And make your bargains plain in black and white; 
In other words, as David Crockett said, 

Be sure that you are right, then go ahead. 

How great your trust, howe’er secure you feel, 
One’s word’s no better than his hand and seal. 

T is hard to think, still harder to confess 
The truth at all times and in soberness; 

Yet evil ways, much like disease, to cure, 

Must be exposed to make the treatment sure. 

This consolation still ’t is well to know, 

Though full of sin, deceitfulness and woe, 

The world grows better and’s disposed to move, 
With opportunities to still improve; 

And what our faith, our preaching, fame or pelf, 
Or stand or fall we, truth sustains itself. 


LEISURE THOUGHTS 


Y E sacred Nine, forever sung 

By every poet, old and young, 

And e’er invited to attend, 

To cheer them and their numbers mend; 
For once at least, you need not come, 
But with your children stay at home, 

Or tune your lyre for other ears, 

Or him assist who’s full of fears, 

I need you not; we can’t agree, 

No matter what the theme may be; 
Whether of birds, or beasts, or men, 

Or mountain peak, or shady glen, 

Wild rushing rivers, babbling rills, 

Or flowery meads, or green-decked hills, 
City or country, hall or cot, 

The stern teetotaler or sot, 

Sweet-scented grove, or starry skies, 

Or warrior’s scars, or maiden’s eyes, 

Or angels blessed, or angels fell, 

Or paradise, or even hell. 

Hence keep aloof and take your ease, 
I ’ll have no partner here to please; 

The task alone — it is my whim — 

I will perform, or sink or swim; 

The evening’s entertainment — mine — 
Hence no one’s business else in fine. 

It is correct; so if you list, 

Here’s for a hand of quiet whist, 

Or euchre, cribbage, or all fours, 

No matter which, I ’ll nick the scores. 

The table’s set, the chairs in place, 
The partners seated face to face, 

The cards are dealt, the game begun, 
And hours apace, unheeded run. 
Meanwhile the national affairs 

48 


LEISURE THOUGHTS 


49 


Are full discust with proper airs; 

What Congress ought to do, in fine, 

What acts to pass and what decline. 

The points are shown wherein ’t is wise. 

The present tariff to revise; 

Schedule of duties how to make; 

Which to repeal, where add, where take. 

The taxes, revenue internal, 

Are clearly shown to be infernal, 

And ought to be repealed, at least 
The most, the others much decreased. 

Tax on tobacco. Partner spoke; 

He makes cigars and truth I smoke. 

The turn the late election took, 

Is noted well by word and look; 

The causes shown of the disaster, 

And how to mend it a la master. 

The river-harbor bill, the rings, 

The stalwart bosses, other things, 

Are shown to be the cause, the fears, 

That set the people by the ears. 

Our neighbor’s business — not our own — 

Is well discussed, his faults made known; 

His every error, each misdeed, 

His nonability and creed. 

The weather’s touched, a topic true, 

For all when nothing else will do. 

Tempora, mores, themes for all, 

Or high or low, or great or small. 

The seasons next all hands rehearse, 

In prose a part, a part in verse. 

A proper theme, for it is clear, 

The seasons last the livelong year; 

And seldom is a poet born, 

Who does not sing them night and morn, 

Till Spring e’en mantles, Summer warms, 

And Autumn fades and Winter storms. 

The clock chimes two and dim’s the light; 
The game we end and bid goodnight. 


1 


50 LEISURE THOUGHTS 

Thrice, since aside my verse was laid, 

His daily course the sun has made; 

Full thrice the moon has westward turned, 
And thrice the lamps of heaven burned; 
Again the evening frosts descend, 

Again I’ll to my task attend. 

T is January, cold and drear, 

Beginning of another year, 

And may it for each soul on earth, 

Contain some cheer, some honest mirth, 

And whence it came, or what its name, 

May every one enjoy the same. 

Yea, peace, and gladness, and goodwill, 

The heart of every creature fill. 

Be woe, and wrong, and hate unknown, 

But seeds of concord widely sown. 

Let thankful earth to heaven upraise 
A song of universal praise, 

While angel choirs rejoice with men, 

And hymn it back to earth again. 

Praise e’er is due to every one, 

By whom a kindly deed is done; 

To God, and Son, and Holy Ghost, 

These first, then all the heavenly host; 

To man, to beasts, to birds, to all 
That have a being, great and small; 

E’en to the devil, full of sin, 

When a poor fellow he lets in, 

Who chance was tempted from the fold, 

And left to shiver in the cold; 

Yea, home is home, though e’er so humble. 
And small the comfort, none should grumble, 
But rather thankful be instead, 

He has a place to lay his head. 

The past is past, hence let it rest, 

But strive to make the present blest. 

The future is not, all allow; 

The present is and only now; 

The Now is ours, its pleasures, woes; 




LEISURE THOUGHTS 


51 


No other time Jehovah knows. 

Now is the time in which to live, 

And blessings to receive and give; 

The time to do the best we can, 

Both to ourselves and fellow man. 
Dispensing joy, assuaging grief, 

In serving God and this is chief. 

Whate’er is done we can’t undo, 

Nor make but three of one and two. 
Few troubles does the present know, 

But ills anticipated grow. 

Wrong for wrong can ne’er make right, 
And sorrow’s oft the child of spite. 

To rake the ashes of past wrongs, 

To brood o’er ills or vengeance long, 

Fills the heart with bitter care, 

And makes a burden hard to bear; 

But gladness to the soul is earned, 

When good for evil is returned, 

Truth’s a champion we can trust, 

Virtue on armor free from rust. 

*T is seldom well to give advice, 

To give example’s better thrice; 

For oft advice’s like wornout shoes, 

Easy to wear, but e’er refused. 

Nor is it well to urge the truth; 

Few heed it or in age or youth, 

And some it grieves, gives some offence, 
As very oft does common sense. 

The world indeed is but a show, 

In which those reap who seldom sow; 

A stage whereon each takes a part 
And acts it with consummate art; 

Or rather dual role, I ween, 

One seen and one behind the scene. 

One half of life’s made up of dreams, 
The other half’s not what it seems; 

And much of guilt and o’er much woe 
Are oft concealed by outward show. 


LEISURE THOUGHTS 


Man’s seldom judged by sterling worth, 
Rather by what he wears or birth. 

Wealth makes the man, its want the churl, 
Beauty the woman, dress the girl. 

The poor? God bless them, theirs the toil; 
The rich? why theirs the wine and oil. 
There’s comfort yet for those who mourn, 
Who have the heat and burden borne, 

For, 01 ye rich, remember all, 

The portal of a needle’s small. 

’T was vision or dream, it’s clear; 

No matter which, it follows here. 

Methought, upon a mountain’s height, 
While sitting lone to muse and write, 

A mighty sound assailed my ear, 

Which filled me with unwonted fear; 

And looking on the plain below, 

I saw a great, a wondrous show; 

A multitude, whose outmost line 
My vision could not e’en define. 

A great commotion it was in, 

And thence arose exceeding din, 

As when the waves of ocean pour 
In fury, on a rocky shore. 

While all intent upon the scene, 

To ascertain what it could mean, 

Full in the midst a beast I saw, 

With monstrous head and mammoth paw, 
Who wore a golden crown that shone 
With many a rare and precious stone. 
Strange characters were on it chased, 

Also in front a number placed, 

Full sixty score less twenty-eight, 

Which in my mind caused much debate. 

He had surprising power; his nod 
Betokened him a very god; 

And as he moved the host amid, 

Few durst do only as he bid, 

And each to whom he favor gave, 


LEISURE THOUGHTS 


S3 


He also marked his willing slave. 

Indeed ’t was marvelous to see 
So many bow to him the knee; 

All knees were somewhat weak ’t was clear, 
And bent for favor or through fear. 

He ruled supreme, (for naught beside, 

Nor love nor eloquence, nor pride 
E’er had such sway, or ever can,) 

And knew forthwith his proper man; 

E’en judge and juror, heads of State, 

To him surrendered soon or late. 

The throng, all eager to obtain 
His favor, rushed along the plain; 

Many were trampled in the dust; 

Full many, too, aside were thrust; 

Some slain by chance, others in ire; 

While very few gained their desire; 

And thence were sounds of woe, despair, 
Rejoicings, blasphemy and prayer. 

As looking on the host again, 

Upon the multitude of men, 

I saw two other beasts remote, 

(The one a ram, the other goat, 

Resembled much,) great in themselves, 

But with the first compared, were elves. 

The ram pushed right and left, as though 
He cared for neither friend or foe. 

The goat pushed too, ne’er seeming tired, 

As if by vanity inspired; 

He e’en beset the ram, and they 
Contested long and fierce the day. 

Hither and thither they did push, 

And one against the other rush, 

Until o’ercome by crafty thrust, 

The ram fell headlong in the dust; 

But ’t was a mighty contest, for 

When Greek meets Greek, comes tug of war. 

I bent my eyes upon the ground, 

In meditation long, profound; 


54 


LEISURE THOUGHTS 


And as I thus the matter weighed, 

A hand was on my shoulder laid. 

Quick looking to the left, I spied 
A man there standing by my side, 

Who thus, in accents kind the while, 
Regarding me with pleasant smile: — 

The multitude you saw are they 
Who dwell upon the earth today, 

Of every nation ’neath the skies, 

The beast that you beheld, him crowned, 
Is of the earth, not elsewhere found. 
With man coeval, he will stay 
With man till man shall pass away 
And though he strife engenders, still 
Men court him, doubtless ever will. 

The characters reveal his name, 

The number represents the same, 

With it he marks, and he alone, 

Those whom he chooses for his own. 

The ram is impudence. A bore, 

Conceit the goat. He said no more. 

I rouse and figure long and sweat 
O’er lexicon and alphabet, 

To solve the mystery, or at least 
Name to determine of the beast. 


ON THE WEDDING ANNIVERSARY 


Of Mr. and Mrs. M. A. Brown 

T HIS world’s a stage (all recognize the fact,) 

Where each has a part which he must needs enact; 
Hence, in life’s drama, this’s a scene tonight, 

A pleasing play, because ’t is strictly right. 

The time is fitting, proper is the place, 

And each performs his part with seemly grace; 

No one is backward, neither any bold, 

But all united to this adage hold; 

The way to do things well and give delight, 

To do them BROWN and promptly is the right. 

Things are not always just as they appear, 

Nor are they always as expounds the seer. 

Friends are not lacking when we riches gain, 

When riches flee how many friends remain? 

If sincere friendship be compared with gold, 

The WORTH -IN -TONS we surely here behold. 

It’s well for man to marry — NO! says Paul — 

With his much learning, did he know it all? 

The man is happy when a husband true, 

And when a wife, the woman’s happy too. 

The anniversary of the wedding day 
It’s well to keep, the past to well survey, 

Enjoy its joys, from its experience gain, 

Good feelings court and harmony maintain. 

The ceremonies, or a part at least, 

It’s well to keep, especially the feast, 

And all these present (none can well resist,) 

Came here expressly kindly to assist; 

In fact the secret of the gathering here, 

Is for imparting and receiving cheer: 

Who has the greater share is greater blessed, 

Since from his excess he can give the rest. 

Kind host and hostess, who as man and wife, 

55 


56 


ON THE WEDDING ANNIVERSARY 


Have passed together nineteen years of life, 

Its joys and sorrows shared; ready to aid, 

Friendly to others, friends of others made; 

This token of our friendship we present; 

As such accept, as such ’t is only meant. 

Though small its value, needful ’t is to use, 

And when well fed will kindly warmth diffuse; 
Unpleasant coldness it will cause to flee; 

T will boil the kettle, brew the pot of tea; 

Corned beef and cabbage it will cook superb; 

T will stew the sauce and roast the Christmas bird; 
T will broil the steak, warm up the hash and greens; 
*T will faultless bake Boston brownbread and beans, 
And Etna like its flames will ne’er expire, 

Hence now no more “Who’ll make the morning fire?’ 
May peace and plenty e’er with you abide, 

No friend forsake, no enemy deride, 

No clouds portentous overcast your sky, 

No vexing evils in your pathway lie, 

No flowerets wither which your hearts hold dear, 

Nor fade the sunlight which supplies your cheer. 

Aye, joy attend you and a length of days, 

Your hearts pulsating with a song of praise. 


RETROSPECTION 


D EAR JOHN, the curtain that the future hides, 
We can not lift, and doubtless it is well; 

For oft the hope of things to come provides 
A joy that knowing likely would dispel. 

Belief persuades us oft to think we know, 

But all the knowledge that we now possess, 

Is by inheritance, or years ago, 

Gained through experience, nothing more nor less. 

Yet of life’s making, in the youthful mind, 

Much of the seed is sown with hopeful care, 

As golden grain is to the earth consigned, 

Trusting the future for a harvest fair. 

The things that charm are oft beyond the reach, 

Or slumbering in the past or yet to come, 

And joy we find in contemplating each, 

As does the exile in his dreams of home. 

In days of childhood bloom the choicest flowers, 
Whose subtile fragrance linger age around, 

And recollections of those happy hours, 

Are purest pleasures that in life are found. 

Then let us take a retrospective view, 

Through the dim shadows of departed years, 

Of what’s sufficing, what we would renew 
Of youth’s bright drama as it now appears. 

Even in fancy age forget and deem 
We still are youngsters mid the scenes of youth, 
And acting each his part; a pleasing dream, 
Wherein is strong resemblance of the truth. 

57 


58 


RETROSPECTION 


To mortals truly does the past belong, 

Kind memory opes, we pass the portal through, 
Nor find the journey so exceeding long, 

But joy the prospect opened now to view. 

We hail the morning, hail the balmy breeze; 

The fields rejoicing in their vesture green; 

Listen the whispering in the leafy trees, 

And see such wonders none but youth has seen. 

We hunt the cresses in the springy brook, 

The golden cowslip in its wet retreat; 

Search for the violet in the shady nook 
And crush the mosses neath our restless feet. 

Inhale the fragrance of the flowerets wild, 

The orchard blossoms and the new-made hay; 
Behold the clouds in changing festoons piled; 

See many pictures in the grand display. 

All nature smiles; inviting ’t is afield; 

A witching spell pervades the very air; 

We hold brief counsel, to our wishes yield, 
Thoughtless of adding to paternal care. 

We hie from home, take the familiar way 
Along the margin of the babbling stream, 

And cast our pin hook where the eddies play; 
Here the shy minnows in the water gleam. 

On golden wings the moments fly apace; 

The setting sun adorns the western skies; 

We take no thought our footsteps to retrace, 
Absorbed in efforts to secure the prize. 

We hasten homeward late at father’s call, 

And list his counsel, though we feel aggrieved. 
In youthful ailments, incident to all, 

The tender care of mother is received. 


RETROSPECTION 


59 


The care, the counsel are too soon forgot, 

Not through intent nor lack of due regard; 
Temptations sore too often are our lot; 

Not to inspect forbidden things is hard. 

All have their pastime, we are not exempt, 
Therefore have ours, clandestinely if need. 

To do with us is only to attempt, 

Though soon as done we oft regret the deed. 

We pluck the rose regardless of the thorn, 

The fruit unripe from the forbidden tree; 

To good advice oft list in partial scorn; 

Who knows the matter quite as well as we? 

We mount the tree-top, climb the craggy steep. 
Inspect the thicket, chance our garments tear; 
Then in repentance ’neath the willow weep; 
Promise in future better fruit to bear. 

Now fields across we daily take our way 
To the far schoolhouse on the public road; 
There learn to shoot (’t is natural to play,) 

And when dismissed, return to our abode. 

The sword, the gun, the arrow and the bow 
We Tubals fashion with consummate skill, 

And teach their use our youthful troops to know, 
Who wait impatient to perform our will. 

The foe is met, (imagined it is true,) 

Volley on volley’s poured with deadly aim; 

The enemy succumb; our loss is few; 

Resounding cheers the victory proclaim. 

Though not the most expert at bat and ball, 

We think there’s pleasure in the noble game; 
To catch the flying missile is not all, 

It’s brave to bear, attractive to be lame. 


60 


RETROSPECTION 


During the winter, on the frozen pond, 

We try our skates and skill with boastings bold; 

In turning shapely curves are overfond; 

But, oh ! such stars as sometimes we behold. 

We haul our sled, our handiwork and pride, 

Up the steep hillside, deem the labor light; 

With speed increasing, downward now we glide, 
With merry laughter, shouts of pure delight. 

With engineering skill the drift we pierce, 

And in its bowels hollow out a cave, 

A place of shelter from the norther fierce, 

A place to tell of wondrous deeds and brave. 

The thicket of the forest we explore, 

Huntsmen, like Nimrod of historic fame, 

There set the snare, adjust the figure four, 

But ne’er are burdened with the captured game. 

From seeded ground we clear the stone in spring, 
And use the hoe when planting is begun; 

List to the bluebird and the robin sing, 

And with delight behold the setting sun. 

Riding the horse to furrow out the corn; 

Weeding the beets, the onions row by row; 

Turning the cows to pasture in the morn, 

And yarding them at night are tasks we know. 

At early morn a summons loud we hear, 

And quickly dressing, haste the cause to learn: 

The scythe is dull, the grass becoming sere; 
Beneath the shade tree we the grindstone turn. 

We spread the grass the scytheman leaves arow, 
And with the rake collect the fragrant hay. 

With glowing pride, for well our skill we know, 

We build the stack, or mow the spacious bay. 


RETROSPECTION 


61 


What though the stubbles pierce our naked feet? 

What though the blisters on our hands appear? 

It’s fun to see our elders in retreat, 

The sportive hornet charging on their rear. 

Now with the scythe the verdant swath we turn; 

Next with the cradle lay the golden grain. 

These useful arts in time we duly learn; 

In each a pleasure, satisfaction gain. 

Harvest secured, the well filled barn within, 

With sounding flails we thresh the fruitful sheaves, 
Nor cease our labor, (we are bound to win,) 

Though chance the head a careless blow receives. 

But thoughts intrusive now disturb our dream, 

And we awake to find those days are past; 

Yet they will e’er provide a pleasant theme, 

Which will abide so long as life shall last. 

There’s much not here disclosed; the hopes, the fears, 
The dreams of youth o’er many a well formed plan, 
Full of bright promise for the coming years, 

When duly reaching the estate of man. 

Yet realized small part has been, in truth, 

As retrospect will doubtless prove to all. 

Not all the sunshine is alone for youth; 

Man much absorbs, but thinks his portion small. 

Not all the roses, all the choicest cheer 
Belong to youth, nor all the brightest joys; 

We know whereof we speak; - hence, brother dear, 

Let’s journey on; we envy not the boys. 


REPLY TO BROTHER JOHN 


Y ES, the years speed unheeding, 
Whatsoe’er we do or say; 

Now’s present too, conceding 
That the past has passed away. 

That we know no future’s granted, 

And but little of the past; 

Though we have with labor planted, 
Comfort, there is rest at last. 

If there were no change of seasons; 

Should the earth remain at rest; 
Would these be sufficient reasons, 
Indications quite the best, 

To conclude that time forgetful 
Of his duties would become? 

Or that he would be so fretful, 

As to yield the ghost, succumb? 

Some would feel indeed quite friendless, 
If no moon nor sun should shine; 

Few desire a day that’s endless; 

They prefer at noon to dine. 

True, a chain must needs be golden, 
Endless too, and very strong, 

To bind all. Sure time is olden, 

Many are his days and long. 

A first cause implies beginning, 

Whether spirit, whether clay; 

Further, it would not be sinning 
To suppose it had its day. 

62 


REPLY TO BROTHER JOHN 


63 


Forces are, if once opposing, 

Apt each other to destroy, 

Compound motive is supposing 
An impossible alloy. 

Will’s the faculty that fashions 
All our actions, good or ill; 

What power is there in the passions, 
E’en to choose, or more, fulfill? 

Judgment should not be confounded 
With the will, for they are two. 

We by conscience are astounded, 
Frequently in what we do. 

What is time? The differential 
Of eternity. And place? 

A point only, yet essential 
To infinity of space. 

Truly time, like many others, 

Is a useful word indeed; 

So is place. Two loyal brothers, 

And the twain we ever need. 

Small and brief although our portion, 
We prefer them to retain. 

Whither go we is a notion 
None are able to make plain. 

a 

Man, (the fact is past confuting,) 

Is, and who can further go? 

Little use is there disputing 
Over matters we don’t know. 

What man ever drew the curtain, 
Hiding from us the unknown, 

How we sow, one thing is certain, 

We to sin are often prone. 


REPLY TO BROTHER JOHN 


Paul herein made apt confession; 

That he served the Lord in mind, 

Sinned in flesh. All the profession, 
Without doubt, are thus inclined. 

And *t is clear, with his much learning, 
He had visions in his head; 

That his thoughts were e’er concerning 
The conditions of the dead. 

After death: — That is the query 
Many are inclined to make; 

Some conclude it looks quite dreary, 
Others comfort in it take. 

None has absolute conviction 
As to what the state will be; 

Numbers deem it but a fiction; 

That ’t is doubtful all agree. 

Truly, if the spirits kindle, 

Let them burn and let them glow; 

It would show they are no swindle, 
And not modern make also. 

Less the latter, less of sorrow, 

More of joy and wisdom too; 

Justice e’en would be less narrow, 
Charity have less to do. 


THE SOWERS 


T HERE are two forever sowing, 
Good seed one, the other bad, 
And a third is ever mowing, 

Ever with an aspect sad. 

Yes, the two are sowing ever, 

And the scytheman ceases never, 

But the harvest’s gathered — where? 

i 

They are christened Good and Evil, 
And they sow the selfsame field, 
Serving thus both God and devil, 

And the scytheman mows the yield. 
E’er they sow, the last with laughter, 
While the scytheman follows after; 
But the harvest’s gathered — where? 

So the three e’er work together, 

And they never e’en rebel, 

Nor forbids the Master whether 
Be their doings ill or well. 

Then the twain can keep on sowing, 
And the scytheman keep on mowing; 
But the harvest’s gathered — where? 

Of the sowers both are needed, 
Elsewise neither could be known; 
Should the mowing be unheeded, 

Soon the yield would be o’ergrown. 
Now ’t is plain they here are biding; 
Hence ’t is proper in deciding 
That the harvest’s gathered here. 


65 


THE PATH OF LIFE 


T HE path of life is uphill sure, its level stretches rare, 
Therefore to travel it requires due diligence and care; 
For many pitfalls are therein, confusion to dismay, 
Temptations many to withstand, obstructions in the way, 
It’s very like a labyrinth with many a doubtful turn, 

And they whom sirens lead astray, too late their error learn. 
By many who the journey take, and every one must needs, 
It's deemed to be diversified and oft to Hades leads; 

Some think the terminal too near, others away too far; 
Some wish the path would never end, enfeebled though 
they are; 

A few consider it all right, some altogether wrong, 

But of a truth it is no dream, no sweet triumphant song. 
With vigilance, howe’er the path is not so very hard, 
Though oft with ills it is beset, all pleasure’s not debarred 
Some roses bloom along the way, exhaling sweet perfume, 
Some joy to make the pathway bright, hope to depress the 
gloom. 

Happy the man who’ll not be swerved and neither be 
afraid, 

Who will avoid all ills he can, and give deserving aid. 


66 


ECCLESIASTES XII 


R EMEMBER thy Creator now, 

E’en in thy youth, e’er years draw nigh, 
Or evil days approach, when thou 
Shalt say no pleasures in them lie. 

Or ere the sun, the light, the moon, 

Or stars be darkened, or delay 
The clouds not to return full soon 
After the rain; e’en in the day. 

When keepers of the house shall fear 
The strong men shall their weakness show, 
And those who out the windows peer, 

Shall darkened be with heavy woe. 

When corn with sadness shall be ground, 

The doors closed along the way, 

That low be heard the grinding sound, 

Which shall begin at early day; 

When maids of song shall be abased, 

And of the high afraid shall be; 

When in the way shall fears be placed 
Maturing like the almond tree. 

When gryllus grievous shall become, 

Desire shall fail and woe be meet, 

Because man goes to his long home, 

And mourners go about the street. 

Or e’er be loosed the silver string, 

The golden bowl be broke and void, 

The pitcher broken at the spring, 

And at the well the wheel destroyed. 

Then shall the dust return to earth, 

As first it was, and naught discern, 

And since He gave it man at birth, 

The spirit shall to God return. 

67 


A LETTER 


D EAR FRIEND, Richards, oft I’m dreaming, 
Dreaming of the land of sunshine, 

Where the sky is ever azure, 

Except when the fog’s prevailing, 

Overcasting all creation; 

Often very thick and humid, 

Thick enough to be cut in pieces, 

And be stored for future uses. 

Yes, ever dreaming, and a few lines 
From your pen would be accepted, 

With due thanks and o’er much pleasure; 

Lines conveying information 
Of the land of your adoption; 

Elsinore, and its surroundings; 

Of its good and pious people; 

Of my friends and their condition; 

All of them and you especial, 

Your good helpmate too, included; 

Also Bundy, wife and children, 

Balfour, Dutton, Koons and Dewey. 

Have there many ceased their labors, 

Joined their kindred o’er the river, 

There to rest and be remembered 
Dimly by those soon to follow? 

T’ other side must be well settled, 

With no lack of near neighbors, 

Yet continues emigration, 

And, as with the stage-coach, doubtless, 

All will find accommodation, 

And a place still for another. 

Do the gold mines pan out freely? 

Have you water in abundance? 

How are oranges and lemons? 

How the place, once the possession 
Of the Foot girls? How the roses? 

How the lake, the many mud hens, 

Ducks and geese, and other wild fowls? 

68 


A LETTER 


Truly here are many questions, 

But ’t is hoped you will find answers 
For them all without much trouble; 
And assured be, a great favor 
You’ll confer upon the writer 
Of this — Call it what you please to. 

Of myself and my companion, 

(Who with me did choose a langsyne, 
The same path through life to travel, 
Be it smooth, or be it rugged, 

Bright or cloudy, short or lengthy, 
Skirt with roses or with thistles,) 

A few words may not amiss be, 

But by you desired rather, 

And a few will tell the story. 

We are both in fair condition; 

Might be worse or might be better; 
Better in the land of sunshine; 

Worse in these New England changes; 
Howe’er there is small occasion 
For rejoicing or complaining. 

Making surveys for a railroad, 
Asahel’s out in North Dakota 
In the land of many blizzards, 

Where the weather, without question, 
Well will rival that of Greenland, 
Being possibly no colder. 

Here his wife is and his baby, 

Who’s as bright as a new dollar. 

Nothing more is there to offer, 

At least nothing for the present, 

That I have in mind or would be 
New to you or interesting; 

Hence, with best regard, and trusting 
You and yours are well and happy, 
And that soon I ’ll have the pleasure 
A rejoinder hereto reading, 

I will close by duly adding 
Hiram Cook, yours sincerely. 


FUIMUS TROES: FUIT ILIUM 


OME, dear poet, thou who sweetly 


Told the tale of Hiawatha 
And the maiden Minnehaha, 

Come and aid, for aid is needed 
In the task that lies before me — 

The condition most unhappy, 

Of the present time and people, 

To rehearse in proper manner. 

One time here were brighter prospects, 
As it were a sea at flood tide, 

Bearing proudly on its bosom, 

Goodly barks, all fitly laden 
With prosperity and vigor; 

But the waters have been ebbing 
Slow at first, but lately rapid, 

Till they now seem at the lowest, 

And ’t is hoped so most sincerely; 

For results are sad, depressing, 

Even passing comprehension. 

Crafts of promise have been stranded, 
And their cargoes wholly ruined. 

Ay, industries that once flourished, 

Are extinct or have been taken 
To a section more inviting, 

Where they were encouraged, fostered, 
And did consequently prosper. 

It’s a task not yet accomplished, 
Something to obtain for nothing, 

To revive what’s past redemption, 

And results will e’er be ditto, 

Wasted hopes and lighter purses. 

Still to better the conditions, 

Have the wise ones scoured creation, 
Their own people e’en forgetting, 

Hunting bankrupt institutions, 



“FUIMUS TROES: FUIT ILIUM” 


71 


Which, through offers quite persuasive, 

Money or relief from taxes, 

Quick accepted the conditions 

And, with o’ermuch sound of trumpets, 

Hither came and took possession, 

Though in moribund condition. 

Now are many empty dwellings, 

And the cry for alms is constant. 

Advertisements fill the papers; 

Or for sale or rent prevailing; 

While in value lands and buildings 
Have depreciated greatly, 

Yet, if aught, are taxes higher, 

And as certain as the graveyard. 

Apathy commands the valley; 

Clouds portentous shroud the hilltop; 

Prodigality is rampant, 

And from present indications, 

Husks will soon become the diet. 

Then will rise this lamentation, 

NORWICH WAS; WE WERE HER CHILDREN 1 
Oh I poor ROSE, how art thou fallen, 

Fallen from esteem and favor; 

Once the pride of all thy children; 

Who have little now to squander; 

Honored once by all New England, 

For thy merit, for thy beauty, 

Seated on thy throne, Olympus, 

At the head of navigation. 

Fallen greatly, and becoming 
Like to Sodom and Gomorrah, 

And to save thee seems uncertain, 

E’en with salt or Lot petitions. 

Sad condition 1 and the chance is 
Gnashing of the teeth and wailing. 

Oh I ye people of the valley, 

Of the Rose so sadly fallen, 

Who have still a kindly feeling 
For your birthplace and your children, 


72 “FUIMUS TROES: FUIT ILIUM” 

From your lethergy awaken. 

And stand firm for reformation. 

Let nor High nor Low be favored; 
Neither Church nor State exempted; 
Clear the place from its incumbrance; 
With due thought and sober judgment, 
Minimize outlays and taxes; 

Help industries in your borders, 
Whene’er needed and deserving; 

And a citizen consider 
Quite as good as any stranger: 

Then prosperity will gladden 
Every home within the city; 

E’en outsiders uninvited, 

Having means and meaning business, 
Hither ’ll come and here will tarry, 

To the place a lasting honor. 


TO MY GRANDSON 


D EAR RICHARD, now a little tale 
I ’ll kindly whisper in your ear, 

And due attention do not fail 
To give, that you the whole may hear. 

I had a dream the other night, 

E’er changeful, charming yet the while; 
The sky was blue, the sun was bright, 
And Nature wore her sweetest smile. 

In stately bark I sailed the sea, 

Which seemed transparent as the air, 

So that therein I saw with ease, 

Full many wondrous things and rare. 

Great caverns here and there appeared, 
Containing things to man unknown, 

And where high mountains were upreared, 
I saw full many a precious stone. 

Vast valleys lay the hills between, 

Bestrewn with shells and wealth untold; 
Forests of coral there were seen, 

And all of life the oceans hold. 

Of every thing I saw ’t would take 
Full many hours indeed to tell; 

A pleasant tale ’t would doubtless make, 
And doubtless tire you out as well. 

Next in cool wood and verdant field, 

With pleasant thought I wander long; 
The roses here did fragrance yield, 

And there the happy birds their song. 

73 


74 


TO MY GRANDSON 


The country bloomed through patient toil; 
With busy life the towns rejoiced; 

Not any where was there turmoil, 

Nor sorrow any where was voiced. 

In many lands I traveled then, 

Transported as by magic spell, 

And saw some wondrous works of men, 

And some of Nature’s too as well. 

On Cheops’ pyramid I gazed, 

Also the others thereabout, 

And wondered much how they were raised, 
But for what purpose was in doubt. 

The Sphinx I seized e’en by the ear, 

And sure methought the monster whined; 

And although strange it may appear, 

On mountains of the Moon I dined. 

Next on the Chinese wall I stood, 

And though it filled me with surprise, 

I thought it was no earthly good, 

And its projector not o’er wise. 

I then to Mammoth Cave did go, 

And eyeless fish saw sporting there, 

Awhile the jeweled roof did glow 
With beauty e’en beyond compare. 

Yosemite was all surprise: 

Its lofty cliffs; its mammoth trees 

That seemed to pierce the very skies, 

And falls superb, failed not to please. 

I then from Rainier’s snowy height, 

Did see for miles and miles around; 

Seattle on its hills so bright, 

Tacoma nestled on the Sound. 


TO MY GRANDSON 


75 


Far on a pleasant hill I spied 
Some happy boys engaged at play; 
With hasty steps I thither hied, 

Nor long nor rugged thought the way. 

And there I found my Richie boy, 

His father, mother, grandma too: 

The meeting all did much enjoy, 

Truly a proper thing to do. 


k 


MARRIAGE ANNIVERSARY 


D EAR ASAHEL, we a pleasant year 
Have passed as man and wife; 
May those to come contain like cheer 
And joy to brighten life. 

If heaven on us full many days 
Should graciously bestow, 

Let’s not forget to give due praise, 
Dear Asahel, boy, my jo. 

Our wedding bells, may they e’er ring, 
As time shall onward speed, 

And to our hearts rejoicings bring, 

And friends prove friends indeed. 

Let’s not forget the ready aid 
We to each other owe, 

Should burden be upon us laid, 

Dear Asahel, boy, my jo. 

Yes, Ida dear, the hill we’ll climb 
Together hand in hand, 

And may the bells e’er softly chime, 
While flows life’s precious sand. 

V 

We’ll not forget that we are one, 
Whate’er befall, and so 
We’ll live e’en as we have begun, 

Dear Ida girl, my jo. 


76 


TORMENT 


r WAS a night extremely sultry, most uncomfortably 
1 ultra, 

Therefore I, before retiring, opened wide my chamber door; 

Too the windows open throwing, saying corn is surely 
growing, 

And no clothing will be needed, clothing one to cover 
o’er; 

’T is so very hot a sheet e’en will assuredly prove a bore: 

Nudity is fitting more. 

Then I laid me down to slumber, when mosquitoes with- 
out number, 

# 

Uninvited, soon my room filled and my bed did hover o’er; 

Hovered there, their victim viewing, hungry, eager to be 
spewing 

Their vile virus his flesh into, and partaking of his gore; 

Spewing their vile virus, feeding greedy on life’s precious 
store: 

Greedy, ever wanting more. 

Spite of the infernal singing, spite of heat’s persistent 
wringing 

Perspiration freely from me, e’en from each and every pore, 

Sweet unconsciousness came creeping o’er me, and I soon 
was sleeping, 

Sleeping restlessly and dreaming dreams that ne’er were 
dreamt before; 

Dreams replete with grievous torment, seeming real tor- 
ments sore: 

Torments ample evermore. 

Presently a nightmare seized me, in which imps of Hades 
teased me, 

Teased me with their hateful antics and their fiendish acts 
galore; 


77 


78 


TORMENT 


Red-hot needles in me thrusting, needles use had kept from 
rusting, 

Needles bearded, nicely sharpened, forged by Vulcan self 
of yore; 

Causing torture, keen, vexatious; torture I did much 
deplore. 

Tortures wanted never more. 

Without respite, still these devils held their infernal revels, 

Coming thick and coming faster, surely from the Stygian 
shore. 

Death methought, would be a blessing, and the grave a 
place of resting, 

A desirable transition which I seeming did implore; 

Better than such troubled waters which ingulf but ne’er 
restore: 

Better than be tortured more. 

Ay, I thought, could I the pleasure have to drink of Lethe 
full measure, 

And become fore’er forgetful, ever of this torment sore, 

Not a drop should there be wasted, not a single drop 
untasted, 

Since too wretched’s the condition not to utilize such store; 

A condition in which never mortal e’er was placed before: 

Undesirable ever more. 

Is this to continue ever, seeming cried I, ending never? 

Then, Cease, ye imps, hence to Hades, there the chief may 
you adore; 

Also there you may be winners by subduing stubborn 
sinners; 

Satan’s tools to quell rebellion and due order to restore. 

Ages, seeming, you have vexed me, and my head’s becom- 
ing hoar: 

Vex and torture me no more. 

% 

Sudden seemed to cease the singing, then commenced in- 
cessant stinging, 


TORMENT 


79 


Stinging more acute than any which I had received before, 

Which released me, nightmare breaking, bonds severe off 
me taking, 

Yet o’er sleepy, left me dozing in plight none could but 
deplore; 

Dozing, nor awake nor sleeping, merely drifting near the 
shore: 

Sadly drifting, nothing more. 

Soon pain caused by the vile faction, roused me fully into 
action; 

Longer to endure unable, quick I sprang from bed to floor; 

Lit the gas with frantic feeling; viewed myself, the bed, 
the ceiling; 

Closed the shutters and the windows, also closed my cham- 
ber door; 

Vengeance then, for battle ready, on the enemy I swore: 

Vengeance then and ever more. 

Without mercy, without caring, not a single devil sparing, 

Right and left I smote them sorely, sent them Hades to 
explore; 

Smote them in their cunning hiding, leaving them no place 
abiding. 

Fired by vengeance dire I slew them, smote and slew them 
by the score; 

Nor till sure that all were slaughtered, did I give the battle 
o’er: 

Not till sure there were no more. 

Viewing then myself, I found me in such plight as to 
astound me, 

Covered with sore blotches many, also covered with much 
gore. 

Sad condition sure, I muttered, curses many too I uttered; 

Curses without stint or measure, on the devils that did bore 

My flesh into, leaving virus, sucking blood from every 
pore: 


Curses on them evermore. 


80 


TORMENT 


Wretchedness did seem my portion, as cast on a troubled 
ocean, 

There to struggle with the breakers, vainly struggling for 
the shore; 

As this torment, itching, burning, ’thout a remedy discern- 
ing, 

I was sadly forced to ponder, since unable to ignore; 

Yet I hope had, hope of respite, hope that it would soon be 
o’er: 


Hope abiding evermore. 


OLD TIME 


O LD time is ever marching on, nor are his footsteps 
slow, 

For sure I feel no younger now than thirty years ago, 

I had a tussle with him then and worsted him at last; 

It may be that I was too tough, or he somewhat too fast:. 
But should he wrestle with me now, resistance would be 
less, 

Hence the advantage he would take and the encounter 
press; 

It would not be when Greek meets Greek quite as it was 
before, 

For should he put me on my back, the row would soon be 
o’er. 

No doubt the tussle would be brief, but when my time 
shall come, 

I trust contented I shall be to then remain at home; 

For e’er so humble home is home, the fact must be con- 
fessed, 

And when one ’s safely there installed, he ’ll get a lengthy 
rest. 

Thus could the quintic be resolved by radicals or fate, 

And prove that Abel’s argument is not quite up to date; 
Howe’er to worry there’s no need, for though in years, I 
hope, 

With the old fellow yet a while, I’ll able be to cope; 

Since by the gods not being loved, as it at least appears; 
Hence with the daddies I may sleep not yet for sundry 
years. 


81 


WHAT THE MUSE SAYS 


T FT ANNIVERSARY of a wedding 
Is of minor consequence, 

When the mighty ones are dreading 
Visionary evils; hence, 

If a song thereon ’s depending 
On me, chance ’t will not be made; 
Therefore rest and not be spending 
Time in courting doubtful aid. 

Truth is, I am extra busy — 

Kipling, Labouchere, (what brains!) 

Joined by Talor, make me dizzy 
With the burden of their strains. 

Next comes Hoar and Hale in trouble, 

Who have burdens hard to bear, 

And should poets spy the bubble, 

Lo! a song of deep despair. 

If ’t was all a strange delusion, 

Cuba, Philippines and Spain; 

This is but a just conclusion, 

Congress must abide the stain. 

In the breach it forced McKinley, 

Clearly much against his will; 

Outward patriots, but inly 
Traitors some and traitors still. 

Many prophets have I aided, 

Who have sung of heaven or hell; 
Desolation some parading, 

Some the end, yet all is well. 

Doubtless the white man his burden can carry, 
’Thout Vest-Gorman succor, or that of their kin; 
Thout Hoar’s or Hale’s helping, who are so airy 
In venting their knowledge of goodness and sin. 

82 


MY OAR 


T HE muse has left me, so it seems; 

A fig I do not care; 

She can not rob me of my dreams, 
My castles in the air. 

If she is sulky, she can go 
Right where the woodbines twine; 
Others may crave her aid, but know, 
There’s none of it in mine. 

She may be aiding some poor fool, 

To smooth his rugged song, 

If so she’d better open school 
And take her lamb along. 

If I can’t paddle my canoe, 

I ’ll pull it well ashore, 

And not permit her this to do, 

The handling of my oar. 


83 


TO MY SON 

Dec. 7th, 1912 

Y OUR years are five and fifty, boy 
As shown by date above, 

May many more be yours t’ enjoy, 
With health, and wealth, and love. 

Especial love for wife and son, 

To be in love returned; 

Health e’er for business also fun, 

And wealth that’s justly earned. 

But know, my boy, not all of life 
Consists of these alone, 

For there are troubles, ills and strife, 
Exempt from which are none. 

When they are yours, do not deplore, 
They soon will pass away; 

The darkest hour is just before 
The dawning of the day. 

Full many things one has to learn, 
Whether he will or no, 

And whatsoe’er they may concern, 
Will benefits bestow. 

A reputation to obtain, 

Trustworthy friends to make, 

And that to hold, these to retain, 

Is making no mistake. 

Happy are those who e’er behold 
Things in their proper light, 

Who fearless are ’thout seeming bold, 
In standing for the right. 

Put on your armor, force your way, 
Yield not an inch of ground, 

The cause is right, the end will say 
A victory is found. 

84 


A FAMILY HISTORY 


I T is langsyne, useless to whine, 

Or prate fore’er about it, 

That on this earth occurred my birth, 
And none’s inclined to doubt it. 

Far back in life I found a wife, 

And a fine lad she gave us; 

Just one, no more, we were so poor, 
Too many would enslave us. 

With passing time, we saved a dime 
For days that might prove rainy; 

It has been wet, you just can bet, 
Time one must needs be brainy. 

Haply at last, the worst is past, 

So there’s no call to worry; 

We’re still ahead, and be it said, 

’T was done without a flurry. 

That likely lad we langsyne had, 

Has now become quite lusty; 

He fills by grace important place, 
Because considered trusty. 

T was luck I ween, with Ida Green 
That he became acquainted, 

Since her he wed, and be it said, 

That neither of them fainted. 

They now enjoy a dog, a boy, 

And seem to be contented. 

If rows they’ve had, (all rows are bad, 
They doubtless have repented. 

85 


86 


A FAMILY HISTORY 


Now Master Dick, an electric, 

Sets Edison a humping, 

Lest by his vim, the best of him 
He gets by o’er much pumping. 

I ’ve sung my song, or right or wrong, 
And now before you lay it, 

So you and bub, ah! there’s the rub, 
But don’t be bashful, say it. 


WINTER 


N OW dreaded winter on the scene appears, 
Compelling one an overcoat to wear, 

With upturned collar to protect his ears; 

Hence, chance befalls him, He has right to swear. 

For many days he comes to reign supreme, 

Therefore his dwelling one must needs keep warm; 
And sit within, of airy castles dream, 

Bidding defiance to the raging storm. 

But forced without, when icy winds prevail, 

Or blinding blizzards beat against your breast, 
Remember this, unless perchance you fail, 

Take a companion — Sure you know the best. 


87 


THE LASS WITH AUBURN HAIR 


N E’ER yet rehearsed has been this song, 
Or rather not aloud; 

Admiring silently too long, 

It ended with a shroud. 


It’s all about a bonny lass 
With head of auburn hair; 

No rosy morn could her surpass, 

Nor e’en with her compare. 

Her cheeks were like the damask rose, 
Her eyes were starry bright; 

She was a Venus in repose, 

In action a delight. 

She moved with gracefulness and ease, 
And dainty were her feet; 

Her converse never failed to please; 
Her voice was low and sweet. 


She was too queenly to approach, 

Yet all must needs admire; 

To her none durst his love to broach, 
However strong desire. 

Therefore she lived from lass to maid. 

From maid to maiden old; 

Until at last Death kindly laid 
On her his mantle cold. 


88 


TACOMA 


D ELIGHTFUL Tacoma, askirting the Sound, 

Thy beauties all strangers are sure to resound; 
And thy pleasant suburbs, so far they extend, 

T would take a wise prophet to tell where’ll end. 

How blue are the waters of thy splendid Bay, 

Which dance in the sunbeams, and sparkle and play; 
And its banks, how delightful, steepy and green; 

To win admiration they need but be seen. 

How vast is the shipping that enters thy port, 

Which thy ample commerce does openly court; 

Thy buildings majestic and asphaltic streets 
Are themes which all strangers quite often repeat. 

Such wonderful forests, where many trees durst 
E’en grow to such vastness as ready to burst; 

Such vineyards and orchards, e’er loaded with fruit, 
The stranger in viewing, is spellbound and mute. 

Thy Stadium wondrous, the pride of the coast; 
Whose ample dimensions give seats to a host; 

Thy places of refuge on isles of the Sound, 

Where kind entertainment and pleasure are found. 

Thy river Puyallup, how sweetly it glides 
Through evergreen meadows where beauty resides; 
Thy snow-hooded mountain, e’er causing surprise, 

Its feet on the granite, its head in the skies. 

Ye e’er sportive gulls which the harbor infest, 

Oft lighting on vessels and wharf piles to rest; 

Ye glad days of springtime and summer’s blue sky; 
Ye bounties of autumn, green winters. Good-by. 


89 




IT MIGHT HAVE BEEN 

F ULL many years have passed away 
Since Jack saw lovely Sue; 

For dandy Tom stepped in the way, 

So Jack in fear withdrew. 

She was so queenly in her ways, 

So beautiful and bright, 

With her Jack spent full many days 
And evenings with delight. 

She married Tom, sad to rehearse, 

And had a wretched life; 

A brute, he went from bad to worse, 
Oft beating her, his wife. 

A sot he soon became and died 
In drunken frenzy wild. 

She struggled bravely to provide 
Means for herself and child. 

An honored man the child became, 
With nothing to regret — 

She lived and died a worthy dame, 
Whom Jack could ne’er forget. 

Poor Jack laments his youthful days, 
His lack of courage then; 

Quite different, he often says, 

It doubtless might have been. 


* rf v 




THE SHADOW 


I T was a dreary Hallowe’en, 

And clouds portentous veiled the sky, 
No living thing without was seen, 

And dismal winds swept sighing by. 

While I was reading, dreaming o’er 
A little book about the soul, 

Quite suddenly the rain did pour, 

And heavy thunder ’gan to roll. 

Still reading on, methought I heard 
The rustle of a silken dress; 

I looked and listened — ’T is absurd, 

T was nothing but the wind, I guess. 

A chill past o’er me and I thought 
Some one had touched me passing by; 

Again I listened; there was naught 
That I could hear or e’en espy. 

Deep musing for a time, I cried, 

Demon or spirit, please appear. 

A shadow then did pass me by, 

A signal gave; I followed near. 

Through doors and down a winding stair, 
Till in the cellar by a mound — 

The shadow vanished, but ’t was there 
A human skeleton was found. 


Qi 


A STRANGE BIRD 


To Richard 

N EVER was seen so strange a bird 
Since time commenced its flight; 
His uncouth makeup was absurd, 

Indeed he was a fright. 

He, Janus-like, had double head, 
Producing many fears, 

The one was green, the other red, 

And hound-like were his ears. 

A flame shot from his either eye; 

Reverse his feathers grew; 

His toes were webbed, his legs awry, 
And upside down he flew. 

Four wings he had and each possessed, 
At tip thereof, a sting; 

He e’er gazed upward when at rest, 
And downward on the wing. 

Full many tongues this bird did speak 
With fluency and ease; 

English or Hebrew, Latin, Greek; 

He knew his Q’s and P’s. 

Full many tales he also told, 

Full many songs he sung; 

A conversation he could hold 
With either old or young. 

So pleasing were his songs and sweet, 
Amute one stood to hear; 

Indeed they were delightful treat, 

Long ling’ring in the ear. 

92 


A STRANGE BIRD 


93 


The ill and fretful babe he’d soothe, 
Assuage despairing grief; 

The rugged pathway he would smooth, 
Change doubt into belief. 

Though vile in looks. This his defence, 
Since naught but good he did. 

Behind a frowning providence 
A smiling face he hid. 

So forceps in the dentist’s hand, 
Unpleasant are to see; 

Howe’er their use is in demand, 

To set the patient free. 

Also to view the surgeon’s knife, 

Creates a terror strong, 

But used with skill, ’twill oft the life 
Of sufferers prolong. 

All things are not as they appear; 
Result’s the only test; 

Imagination’s fraught with fear, 

Which reason sets at rest. 

A moral has this simple tale, 

Which it is well to know; 

In frightful things good may prevail, 

As lights in darkness glow. 

If evil things your skies portend, 

Fear not nor be disturbed, 

But bear in mind, O doleful friend, 

The fear-inspiring bird. 

E’er have you seen it? Was it all 
As in these lines portrayed? 

If so no doubt you had a bawl 
And was o’ermuch afraid. 


DEVOTION 


O UR darling mother passed away 
When we, her twins, were born, 
And charged that we with father stay 
During life’s early morn. 

That faithful he has kept the trust, 

To us is overplain; 

Hence we consider it but just, 

With him now to remain, 

To cheer him alway to the end; 

A part we owe, to pay; 

As he to us, to him extend 
Our love from day to day. 

And when his lamp shall cease to burn, 
When he shall fall asleep, 

His ashes in a golden urn, 

We’ll reverently keep. 


94 


RURAL PLEASURES 


J N the woodland, dry and sterile, 
There arbutus first is seen; 

In the spring it blooms there early 
When the grass begins to green 

In the corners of the meadows, 

Where secure from chilly blasts, 

First the violet is blooming, 

There it also longest lasts. 

In the swamps and humid places, 

The fair lily comes to bloom, 

And with many other posies, 

Fills the air with sweet perfume. 

In the garden, pinks and roses, 
Sweetest flowers of them all, 

Early bloom in sunny Junetime, 

Lasting even into fall. 

In the house there blooms a maiden, 
Sweet and comely, even calm; 

A smart youngster wooes and wins her, 
And they go upon his farm. 

When the orchard trees are blooming, 
Trusting for a harvest rare, 

Plowing, planting in the springtime, 
And the house work are their care. 

In the summer, warm and sunny, 

When secured ’s the fragrant hay, 

And the corn is growing thrifty, 

They feel sure of ample pay. 

95 


96 


RURAL PLEASURES 


When fair autumn brings the harvest, 
And ’t is stored with proper care, 
Sweet contentment is their blessing; 
They have plenty and to spare. 

When cold winter spreads its mantle 
O’er the fields and streamlets freeze, 
There’s rejoicing in the household, 
There’s a little one to please. 


THE MAIDEN’S DREAM 


B IDDING the captain, crew, Godspeed, 
I sent my airship o’er the sea, 

And now am waiting its return, 

Ladened with things for him and me. 

An airy castle too I built, 

Where he and I could live in fine, 

And roses e’er will be in bloom; 

All to be ours, just his and mine. 

When friends shall come to visit us, 

And find such regal, happy pair, 

They’ll build full many an airship too, 
And many a castle in the air. 

Ye critics, laugh not at the dream, 

But try it once and you will know 
It holds a pleasure, greater far, 

Than real things can e’er bestow. 


A BONNIE LASS 


D EAR MARY was a bonnie lass, 

I thought she was the one, 

The only one with whom to pass 
Through life and troubles shun. 

She had a crown of auburn hair, 

And it was all her own; 

Her eyesl they were a sparkling pair. 
And bright as diamonds shone. 

When introduced, she to me gave 
A sweet and smiling bow; 

Soon I became her willing slave, 

But truly don’t know how. 

She was as shy as a gazelle, 

Perhaps it was designed; 

She would not give me time to tell 
What most possessed my mind. 

Whene’er desiring to propose, 

The fact she quick discerned, 

Brought conversation to a close, 

Or it to nonsense turned. 

But on a cold December day, 

I took her out to ride 
And got a license on the way, 

She then had to decide 

We’ve lived, at least ourselves between, 
A life without annoy; 

Oft now she calls me dear Green, 

But formerly my boy. 

What virtue is there in a name? 

No pleasure it can give; 

Content and health are more than fame, 
With these it’s good to live. 

98 


DEATH 


D EATH, is there naught will stay thy hand? 
Is there no prayer that thou wilt heed? 
Must all succumb to thy demand? 

Nothing to satisfy thy greed? 

Upon the bloody fields of war. 

Where carnage rages, many fall, 

The scene thou seemst not to abhor. 

Nor does it seem thee to appal. 

Thou stridest among the young and old, 
Taking such victims as thou ’It choose; 

Art thou by destiny controlled? 

Must thou perform and ne’er refuse? 

Since time began it’s been thy trust. 

And will continue to the end; 

Hence ’t is no fault of thine, thou must, — 
Rather than blame we should commend. 

If all’s considered as it ought, 

It will be seen the scheme is best; 

Therefore, O Death ! thy sting is naught, 
And, Grave, thy victory is rest. 


99 


> 

> > 


i 

» 


> 

> 


ON TASSO 


IMMORTAL TASSO, who like thee can wake 
A The tuneful numbers with such matchless skill? 
Thy spirit rapt does ne’er thy song forsake, 

But seems each scene with magic life to fill, 

So true, so faithful that soul will take, 

And on the wings of fancy, soar until 
Itself it loses in the stately theme, 

And as its own, thy heavenborn vision seem. 

Ay, justly does the crown of bays belong 
To thee, Torquato, who with meekness bore, 

As of an angel, the severest wrong, 

And in thy dungeon, didst thy spirit pour, 

Fired by the sacred Muse, in sweetest song; 

Now, here thy task complete, thy sojourn o’er, 
Thou dost with angels, on celestial wings, 

In glory borne, the Heavenly City sing. 


LIFE 


I SURE was born too long ago, — 

Full many days here have I staid, 
But there’s an end and well I know, 
That nature’s dues must soon be paid. 

Say then, of what does life consist? 

A tangled skein of good and bad, 

The latter chiefly: all the list 
Is only a perplexing fad. 

The preacher knew the matter well — 
It’s vanity and nothing more; 

We come and here abide a spell, 

Just play our hand and all is o’er. 


IOI 


ILLUSIONS 


To Mattie 

D ESERTED, forgotten, left all alone, 

No one to cheer me, to pleasure unknown; 
Left dreaming of dreams that never can be, 

This wretched weather and more wretched me. 

E’en Robinson Crusoe on his lone isle, 

Had the man Friday his time to beguile, 

But nothing have I, not even a friend, 

A few leisure moments with me to spend. 

There’s no balm in Gilead, nothing for me; 
’Thout chart or compass, alone I ’m at sea, 

And helpless am drifting onto a shore, 

Forbidding and craggy — fate to deplore. 

Idle, despondent, with nothing to do, 

And no one to help me — Oh it is blue I 
I need, these illusions if I ’m to shun, 

A jolly companion, You are the one. 


102 


BEFORE 


H OW kind, O Lord, to thus provide 
Our humble rations, and beside 
The cook deserves some credit. 
Though little well may we be fed; 
Between the lines the rest be read, 

And grant, O Lord, we said it. 


103 


AFTER 


A LTHOUGH this came from 
Improve it no one can; 
The Lord be praised my belly’s 
Without the aid of man. 


Irish dame, 
raised, 


H AS water changed to wine, or in its use, 

Was the wine watered to prevent abuse? 

Two fish, five barley loaves a lad provides, 

Enough for all, twelve baskets full besides; 

Whence were the baskets? empty came they there? 
The loaves and fishes needed scarce a pair. 

Search ye the scriptures, for ye think therein 
Ye have eternal life, and free from sin. 

Twas good advice no doubt, but where’s the text? 
Failing to find it pass it to the next. 


POPE 


P OPE’S numbers flow with easy grace, 
In smoothness none excel; 

In Homer he took Homer’s place, 

And did the task full well. 

Yes, you can carp on what he wrote, 

Yet little have to say, 

For often him you have to quote 
To help you on the way. 

In Dunciad you there will find 
Yourself depictured true; 

Essay on Man is of a kind 
Too deep for such as you. 


106 


UTOPIA 


O H for a home mid fields of green, 

Where scent of flowers pervade the air, 
Where Nature can be felt and seen, 

Relieving one of constant care. 

Where bobolinks upon the wing, 

E’er pipe their sweet, delightful song, 

And where the thrush and linnet sing, 
Undisturbed the live day long. 

Where spreading trees provide a shade 
For those who wish to linger there, 

To dream their dreams nor be delayed 
In building castles in the air. 

Where peace and plenty shall abound, 

And sorrow never there abide, 

Where songs of joy shall e’er resound 
Triumphant on the ev’ning tide. 

Where pinks and roses ever bloom, 

The sweetest of the flowery kind, 

Where there will ne’er be lacking room 
For all who chance such place can find. 

Ah hush, dear sir, your picture shows 
A paradise, it is confessed; 

A place designed for only those, 

Who are accounted with the blessed. 


107 


INDEPENDENCE 


R ING ye the bells and blow the horn: 

One hundred forty years ago, 

An independent babe was born; 

He’s lusty now and leads the show. 

Should he depart, or should he fall, 

To liberty, his spouse, adieu; 

Hence care for him, he’s all in all, 

The greatest blessing man e’er knew. 

The stars and stripes, in peace or wars, 

Are emblems which he e’er presents; 
Though strife and bloodshed he abhors, 
Contempt and insult he resents. 

Severe he struggled to obtain 
This our birthright all should know; 

Long may he live, with us remain, 

What freedom means the world to show. 

Written July 4 , igi6 


108 


A KNAVE and thief lies buried here, 
And here will have to stay; 
Heaven wants him not ’t is very clear, 
And hell turns him away. 

There is no place he can abide, 

A cursed-deserving shade; 

Hence he’ll in chaos have to hide, 

A fate himself has made. 


MOISTURE 


T HE day is fair — There’s some mistake, 
And to the fact we’ll soon awake, 

For lo, low lying in the west, 

A thunder cloud presents its crest, 

And very soon the rain will pour, 

The lightning flash and thunder roar. 

Most every day for many hours, 

There has been one or sundry showers; 
Should it continue long like this, 

An Ararat were not amiss. 

For the umbrella there’s no use, 

The wind will blow it to the deuce; 

A mackintosh will soon wet through, 

And to your hide also will you. 

The flood was local there’s no doubt, 

But Noah did not find it out; 

He had no wireless as he should, 

So built a scow of shittim wood, 

To be secure and floated round 
Until by chance he ran aground. 

It rains and rains and ’t would be well, 

If part of the time it rained in hell; 

’T would give the sinners some relief, 
Although unwelcome to the chief, 

For sure the earth’s no longer dry, 

But will be waterlogged by’nd by. 

A few bright days would give delight, 
E’en though it did not rain at night; 

But sure ’t would be a great surprise 
To have a day of clear skies. 






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